Counterclockwise
by Hanae da Firefly
Summary: Leon and Cloud have been rivals ever since they first met, but when science experiments go out of hand, Leon is deaged and clumsily finds himself under Cloud's care without the blond knowing a thing about him or the truth behind his current state. AU [LC]
1. Chapter 1

**Counterclockwise **

**Chapter 01  
Words:** 10 088  
**Genre:** Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
**Pairing(s):** CL (if you _want_), eventual LC  
**Notes:** AU highschool!fic. After chapter 1, Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
**Disclaimer:** Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
**Warnings:** A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
**Rated:** R

* * *

"I don't think it's possible for me to hate you more than I already do." 

He had this inexplicable urge to wince, but suppressed it.

It wasn't because of the completely furious look that the other boy was giving him, neither was it the expression of pure loathing and disgust – and, strange as it may be, _pain_ – that flickered through those hauntingly bright blue eyes. It wasn't even the way the other boy's back had arched in anger, his stance defensive and livid, as though raring to strike at him.

No, it wasn't any of that.

Rather, it was the manner he had spoken in.

His voice had been eerily controlled – calm, to an extent – the bitterness and disappointment transparently conveyed as repugnance reflected clearly in his eyes.

Littering the hallways were pages upon pages of printed text and monotonous diagrams, each sheet bearing angry, tattered edges; ripped mercilessly from a single bind and crumpled pitilessly. Hundreds of these pages covered the cement floor, some containing dirty shoeprints, no doubt having unapologetically already been stepped on earlier. Most of them bore sharp tears down the centre, and all of them poured out from a single locker, its door hanging ajar; revealing the mess of books and files inside.

Hands still buried deep in his pockets, Leon glanced downwards, eyes scanning one of the many pages strewn across the floor, noting that this had once been a respectful biology textbook.

The silence that followed afterwards was unnerving, deathly. No one dared to speak, to move. They merely watched on warily, anticipating what next would happen in apprehension.

Leon was the school's academic star, also an active runner on the track team. He was silent, stoic and stern – someone who never lost his fights – someone you _never_ messed with. He was undoubtedly the most popular student in school, what with his chiselled good looks and the air of mystery he constantly carried. He never made any effort to befriend others – he certainly didn't need them – and, though a blunt and insensitive teenager, had only few enemies. No one was stupid enough to directly face him off, and with good reason, too. The things he and his friends were capable of doing when riled were stuff of legends.

And then there was Cloud.

Cloud once had been the state representative in swimming, but had pulled himself out of the swim team only a year before without any real reason. His stunt had lowered the morale of his former team mates considerably, and things hadn't really picked up from then. He was a pretty average student – not really active in school – and to his relief, though good-looking, wasn't bothered much by the rest of the student population.

Not really, anyways.

Because it didn't really help that he and Leon despised each other with a passion.

This rivalry of theirs had spanned most of their years together, instigated sometime in primary school and built up throughout adolescence. The dark-haired boy was simply too rude and brusque for Cloud's caring nature, and he, likewise, found the younger boy annoying and self-centred. Leon was a good head taller than Cloud, but the blond teenager had the backbone to back up the obnoxiousness he returned to Leon tenfold whenever they were at each other's throats. Leon, being the more popular student, had a larger group of followers, and they would take matters into their own hands intermittently. Taking their history together into account, teachers had long ago washed their hands of their problematic relationship and focused on more pressing issues.

But even so, this prank had gone a step too far.

As evenly as possible, Leon raised his gaze and stared straight into Cloud's eyes.

Taking this as a sign of obstinacy, Cloud gave Leon a dirty look, disgust marring his handsome face. Calmly, taking a level breath, the brunet spoke in a clear, indifferent tone.

"The feeling's mutual."

At that moment, the blond's expression had become totally unreadable, though it was apparent that something was burning furiously behind his eyes. His expression darkened considerably, and, muttering something incomprehensible, he turned on his heel, walking to the end of the hallway and crouching over in order to gather the torn pages of what was once a textbook of his.

Leon managed to catch vaguely a word reminiscent to 'mother' and immediately felt his blood boil. The stupid idiot was hiding behind that pathetic excuse again, that _very same_ excuse he used for _everything_. He was such a weakling, so useless and feeble. He couldn't even stand up for himself.

"Yeah, go ahead and hide behind a skirt, momma's boy," he jeered coldly, glaring at the blond.

Cloud shot up, his glower fierce and furious. Without standing up, he managed to speak loudly though his jaw had tightened and his throat was constricted with rage.

"At least I have some form of relationship with my mum. Unlike you, who probably only says a word a month to get cash to spend on your inadequate ass."

Uncaring, Leon merely walked away, hands still buried in his pockets as he slouched over slightly, trudging to his next class, ignoring the accusing gazes of the other students.

By the time the bell signalling the start of the next period rang, Cloud still hadn't returned to class. Not like Leon cared or anything. It was just duly noted. It was strange, he thought faintly, for something as extreme as _that_ to happen. Sure, he'd dropped ink bombs in Cloud's locker before, and maybe he had even dumped a few rotten eggs in his gym bag, but even then, he didn't think anyone else was capable of taking his textbook and ripping it to shreds when the boy was taking extra biology classes for credit.

Leon didn't stoop that low.

Though he certainly wasn't going to bother setting things straight and letting Cloud know that, for once, any act of vehemence against the blond was not his fault.

Leon shook his head inwardly.

He was growing soft. Feeling even slightly remorseful for Cloud? Right. Like that would ever happen. He'd have to give credit to the smart ass who was brave enough to pull such a prank in the first place.

Smirking slightly, Leon merely leaned back in his seat and focused on the notes the teacher was writing on the blackboard.

* * *

After the final bell rang, Yuffie had promptly darted out of the classroom, her book bag in tow. Speeding down the hallways and weaving in and out of the crowd that filled the corridors, she managed to make it to the library in record time – grinning brightly as a familiar long-haired girl with emerald green eyes waved at her by the entrance. 

"Wait for me long?" she asked, bouncing as she approached her senior.

Aerith shook her head, gesturing for Yuffie to enter the library first. It was emptier than usual; unsurprising, considering the fact that it was a Friday on the last day of school, and that students naturally steered clear of school during weekends. A few librarians were pottering about, rearranging a stack of books by some shelves to be set back in place, while others cleaned up the counter, occasionally tending after a student or two for the final time that year.

Quietly, they walked across the room and slipped behind a few shelves filled with big, old, worn books that were barely held together with tattered spines. They set their things down on a nearby table and immediately started to hunt around for a tome, fingers brushing the dusty spines and eyes scanning the shelf thoroughly.

It was Aerith who eventually found the book, heaving it out of its place and dropping it unceremoniously on the table, causing a cloud of dust to rise and temporarily seize her in a small fit of coughs. It was a heavy, leather-bound tome; its cover etched with cryptic symbols and a simple signature at the bottom in a deep shade of violet.

Aerith stepped away, covering her mouth and nose with a hand as Yuffie opened the book cautiously, careful not to disturb the layer of dust that covered the yellowed pages. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of aged papyrus and decayed leather, but continued to turn the pages carefully until she reached an index. Running a finger down the list, she spotted the subject of her hunt and immediately took to flipping through the book until she arrived at the desired page.

As she began to read through the first paragraph of the page, Aerith had managed to clear herself of the dust and was now rummaging through Yuffie's bag, shoving aside textbooks and sheets of writing pad until she came across a small, glass bottle that had its label torn off. She immediately recognized it as the bottle used for containing vanilla essence – for flavour – and chuckled softly, shaking her head as she set it on the table gently.

Inside was a light blue fluid, filled to up to the neck of the small bottle. It caused streams of light to refract and shine a hazy, misty colour on the table.

"I think I got it," Yuffie whispered with barely contained excitement. Aerith moved closer to her, peeking over her shoulder and reading a paragraph that the younger girl was pointing out. She read it out to herself, her eyes lighting up at the discovery.

"I think you're right," she murmured, her tone awe-struck.

"Don't you know it," Yuffie grinned in response, giving the brunette a wink.

"Can we check the book out?" Aerith asked, moving away from the girl and putting back some stationary that littered the table in her earlier efforts to locate the small bottle. Yuffie merely shook her head in response, frowning. She pointed at the spine of the tome, revealing that it had no sticker. Books without stickers couldn't be borrowed. Besides, it was the last day of school, and books were to be _returned_ and not borrowed.

Sighing softly, Aerith said, "And I don't think photocopying the pages we need is too smart an option." Yuffie shook her head again.

"Look, we don't need much, anyways. We'll just copy it down. Everything else we need aside from that," she paused, tapping her temple with a finger, "is here."

The older girl smiled.

"Okay, then. You copy down the ingredients and I'll write down the procedure."

Quietly, they both set to work, occasionally referring to a dictionary to decipher some ancient text that had been jotted down alongside the main passage. The book was written in an old language, and it had taken them about a month to translate the first few pages that they wanted by themselves.

Once in a while, the work became frustratingly tedious. The language Cetra was fraught with metaphors, allusions to other manuscripts and constant references to the environment – often using the old names of herbs or plants in its text. They had almost given up completely, but after taking a break for a day or two, their resolves were immediately reaffirmed.

"You think Angelo will pull through okay?" Yuffie questioned timidly, breaking the silence between them as she paused in her etching. Without looking up, Aerith remained quiet for a moment before replying with a soft, "Yes."

Smiling, Yuffie nodded, scribbling the names of the last few herbs into her notebook hastily before throwing her pen down and leaning back in her seat. She pumped her fist in the air triumphantly, stretching as Aerith spent about 3 more minutes with her own section.

They were scanning through their notes a final time when a tall figure made his way towards them, hands in his pockets, slouched over languidly. The girls, only just having sensed his presence, immediately scrambled to hide the chapter they were reading, swiftly looking through some encyclopaedias that Aerith had brought out earlier should the need occur.

Warily, they looked up as the boy cleared his throat, ignoring their suspicious actions.

"Ansem needs you guys in the lab."

Eyes widening slightly, Yuffie turned to look at Aerith, who was also sporting a surprised expression.

Perfect timing, really.

Leon impatiently tapped his foot, eyeing the two girls expectantly as his brows furrowed together in annoyance. His lips twisted into a frown when the girls remained in their seats, exchanging glances and hushed words between one another. He waited where he stood for a minute or two more before finally losing his patience and clearing his throat loudly once again. The girls whipped around in their seats to stare at him. His eyes narrowed at them.

"_Now_."

Quickly, they leapt to their feet, shoving their books and notes from the table into their bags in a mad haste. With Leon's piercing gaze trained on them, they felt a little less indolent and were ready in fractions of a second, waiting at the elder's command. Yuffie managed to replace the book discreetly while Aerith packed their things.

Leon took long strides out of the library into the hallway, the two girls trailing him with a little difficulty. From the corner of his eye, he managed a brief glance to a small corridor and found that it was no longer littered with pages of biology notes as it had before, in the morning. He wondered, vaguely, if Cloud had taken to picking up an odd 300 pages or so by himself, thereby missing classes along the way.

Shrugging the thought out of his mind, he slouched again, slowing his pace marginally and turning to walk up a flight of stairs. The girls followed him silently, until they reached a large hall with big, white doors. The distinct scent of soap and disinfectant drifted through the air, and a tall, lanky figure wearing a pristine, white lab coat was visible, bent over a table, the sound of test tubes and vials clinking against one another.

Leon knocked the door lightly.

"Professor Ansem. We're here."

The figure stood up straight, greeting the newcomers with a brief nod and a small smile. He gestured them inside warmly, and almost instantly, Aerith and Yuffie relaxed. They stepped into the science lab, Leon trudging in behind them. Professor Ansem almost immediately pointed out a few crates in the corner of the room; crates that he assumed he'd have to move to the store by the computers as he had agreed to do earlier. The girls exchanged a few quiet words with the teacher as he set to work, shifting the boxes carefully as the delicate chinking of glass from inside informed him that he was carrying fragile goods.

Meanwhile, the professor had already resumed his work, allowing the girls to do whatever it was they had set out to do. Aerith walked over to a shelf filled with herbs and dried plants, taking some out of their cases and examining them closely before measuring the amounts they would need. Yuffie, on the other hand, had taken to setting up some apparatus on a nearby table, shaking the contents of the small glass bottle aforementioned and pouring about a small teaspoonful into a test tube.

She had taken out a few slips of paper from her bag and was reading from them silently, occasionally mouthing a few words to herself repeatedly before nodding in affirmation.

Leon only observed this in passing, not really bothering with the affairs of others. Sweat was already starting to roll down his back, not from the strenuous work but more from the heat. Summer was already here, and the afternoons were sweltering hot. He paused momentarily, wiping away a few beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand before picking up another box that was labelled, 'Burettes'.

As time wore on, the science teacher eventually called it a day, leaving the rest to consort among themselves as he packed his belongings and looked forward to a summer without classes. He had taken out a few glasses from a nearby cupboard and had taken out a pitcher of cold water for the students should their throats feel parched later on.

All of them were immersed in their own work, completely oblivious to the kind gesture of their teacher as they continued to toil in the sweltering heat of summer in a science lab that lacked any proper air circulation. But they wouldn't have to worry about that for long. After all, it was the last day of school, and the buildings would undergo extensive renovation during their holidays.

"Yuffie!"

Aerith had called out the younger girl's name so suddenly that she had jumped, accidentally upsetting a few beakers and test tubes in the process. Aerith rushed over, quickly scanning the shorthaired girl for any injuries before eyeing the mess that was covering the floor. Shards of glass and pale bluish liquid were by their feet, and when Aerith noticed the expression of frustration that crossed Yuffie's features, she merely patted her back kindly.

"You didn't drop the potion itself, at least. We can pay for the broken equipment."

"But I dropped all the test tubes! We can't put the potion anywhere without using even a beaker, at least!"

"Hmm. . . what if we use my water bottle?"

"We can't use plastic, remember? It has to be glass. No matter what."

Aerith frowned, gaze averted thoughtfully before her eyes landed on a tray that had been set aside earlier.

Bingo.

"We can use that to hold it, can't we?" she asked quietly, pointing to the tray. "Once we're done, we can just store it and bring it back." To prove her point, Aerith took a glass and set in on their table, nodding at it and gesturing for Yuffie to pour the remnants of the potion in. She did so hesitantly at first, but after a few drops, she dumped the entire content of the bottle into the drinking glass.

Aerith read one of her notes briefly before taking a pinch of a clear coloured crystal, murmuring, "The final step, and it'll be complete."

Carefully, both girls watched in anticipation as the elder sprinkled it into the glass. A slight hissing sound accompanied what seemed like white foam, and condensation began to rapidly cover the outside of the glass as the substance inside began to twirl like a small whirlpool. The colour was changing from a pallid blue to a pure white, before the twirling stopped and it dissolved into a clear liquid.

Cautiously, Aerith sniffed it – it was scentless – and a grin broke onto her face slowly as she turned to Yuffie, her eyes lit up. There was a thumb's up on her behalf, quickly followed by a gleeful squeal from the younger girl.

They had _done_ it.

Aerith slumped in relief, leaning against the table in barely contained delight as Yuffie began to dance a little jig of victory beside her, careful to keep her distance from the table containing the fruits of months worth of labour and research. As Aerith began to transfer their now-complete potion into a vial for mobility's sake, their names were called by a mature, female voice from the hall. She managed to pour in most of the liquid and set the empty glass aside for washing before joining Yuffie and leaving the laboratory.

When Leon returned, the room was completely empty. He had discarded his top quite some time ago, and sweat was causing his hair to stick to his face. It felt even hotter than usual, and even he had to take a break from his work. Eyeing the final two boxes left for the carrying, Leon sat down on one of the stools, fanning himself slightly. Letting his elbow rest on the table, he felt surprised by something hard and cold that he came in contact with. There was a pitcher of cold water on the table, and he'd have been damned if he hadn't taken the opportunity to cool down further.

He poured himself a glass and began to down the drink in greedy gulps – there was no one to witness how piggish he could be – and quickly refilled it, draining about half of the contents of the pitcher.

Water had never tasted so sweet. It had a lofty essence of sugariness about it, like honey, but less powerful. It tasted more like dew, like petals, and Leon – being the fan of sweets that he was – decided that he rather liked it. Of course, the second glass didn't have as much flavour as the first glass, but it made no difference to him as he was being rehydrated, either way.

Only when his hands began to tremble, hence dropping the glass that was in an equally shaky grip, did he realize something was wrong. Severely so. His entire body was burning up, like someone had set his insides on fire and his skin was being scorched, and there was a ringing sensation that echoed dully in his ears, his head pounding mercilessly. His throat felt hoarse and tight, chest heaving laboriously, his legs no longer able to support his weight.

As he collapsed to the floor, he barely registered the panicked shouts of two rather girlish voices. His eyes were squeezed shut painfully as he bit on his lower lip, body convulsing as he felt his stomach twist in agony, heat boiling his blood and searing through him with the intensity and burning of lava. Leon choked, unable to breathe or speak, clutching at his throat as he began to writhe.

It was like a volcano had erupted inside his body, spewing out boulders and steam and lava, burning through the cracks of the earth and setting the soil ablaze. Leon could barely keep his eyes open, feeling steam garner and rise through his lungs in sprays. His throat grew dry and felt as though it was being shredded mercilessly with a flaming blade.

He could feel hands on him, the rustle of cloth informing him that there were people by him, rubbing his back and massaging his chest and slowly – ever so slowly – his heart began to calm down. The heat began to subside gradually, and the pain ebbed away. His head began to clear, and soon, his breathing, too, slowed down. He blinked away the tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes from the pain and looked up slowly, his vision coming into focus as the four blurry figures before him reduced to two.

He rubbed his eyes with a fist, noticing the ashen looks on their faces.

"What the hell happened?"

Immediately, his eyes widened, hands flying to clamp over his mouth as the sound of his voice began to register in his head.

Since when had Leon sounded so. . . _childish_?

Warily, his gaze travelled downwards, and that was when he noticed how roomy his boxers had suddenly felt, and how baggy his pants had become. His undergarment was gathered loosely around his chest, and his black pants were pooled around him like a blanket. Everything looked so. . . _big_; larger than what he usually remembered. And when had Yuffie gotten so _tall_? If he wasn't mistaken, she was only up to his shoulder in height.

Disoriented, Leon squinted upwards and around, his eyebrows furrowed as he registered the change of size in practically everything. He could see his shoes jutting out underneath the pile of clothes, and practically felt his socks go up to his knees. Instinctively, his hands flew over his heart, but all he felt was a small, bare, boyish chest. A chain that had suddenly become far too large to loop comfortably around his neck hung low, the lion pendant that he owned covering his navel, the cool metal pressing against his skin.

The impulse to panic immediately set in, and his breathing grew erratic as he struggled to grasp this strange new dimension to reality. He could feel his heart speeding up as he had not yet removed his hands from his chest, and instantly forced himself to calm down. He chanted the words, "Don't panic," like a holy mantra in his mind, taking in slow, deep, albeit shaky, breaths as the room began to spin.

Leon felt the sudden urge to grab onto something to lean against. For lack of any coherent thought, he had already allowed his arm to jut out to rest on any nearby surface – habit, if you will – but there was nothing that his elbow came in contact with but clothes that were now seven sizes too large for him, and he fell to the side in a heap before immediately righting himself up.

He gazed at his hands intently, and after a moment of allowing everything to sink in for real, his horrors were confirmed, if a little incredulously. There was no way a 17 year old had such small hands.

Looking up at the girls, he glared at them for an explanation.

He was met with a beat of silence.

"OH MY GOD, LEON. YOU'RE SO CUTE!"

He could only stare in horror as Yuffie tackled him, her arms squeezing the last ounce of breath out of him as she let out a delighted giggle, ruffling his hair with one hand. He tried to push her away, but it seemed as though he was powerless against the strength of a girl twice his size. Hopelessly, he glanced past her shoulder and up at the more level-headed of the two, only to find that she was gazing down at the two of them with barely concealed amusement.

"I'm glad you find my misery entertaining," Leon huffed, immediately chiding himself for speaking with that childish tone of his that no longer held authority, because almost immediately, both girls had grinned like the idiots they had become and Yuffie had squealed, "CUTE," at the top of her lungs.

There would be hell to pay.

_Hell_.

* * *

It was one huge fluke. Really, it was. 

And as Aerith bit down her bottom lip to keep down the manic grin that was threatening to upturn her mouth, she couldn't help but congratulate herself for a fluke well done.

Because Leon looked as cute as a button.

Really.

And none of the girls had any real qualms to voicing out their opinions this time round. Not with this adorable little child sitting on a stool and pulling a shirt that could actually fit him over his head.

Leon had lovely eyes. They were big and almond shaped and had the deepest shade of bluish grey you could have ever seen. His features were fine and soft and delicate, and his face had become more round and feminine with the absence of the tightness of the jaw and any additional muscle that boys usually gained after puberty. His lips were small and a light shade of pink, and they looked equally as soft – less severe on his face, even if they were twisted in his typical frown.

His hair had also reduced in length – though Aerith wasn't all that surprised, considering what else had shrunk in the process – and he was sporting a shaggy French crop, his long, untrimmed fringe tickling his cheeks and constantly getting in his eyes. His arms and legs were considerably shorter, too, but that was to be expected. However, when Yuffie had compared the shortness of his limbs cutely to that of a puppy – responded by another well-aimed glare that was now hopelessly cute – the grin just threatened to widen on Aerith's face.

The explanation had been simple, really. She and Yuffie had been busying themselves with making a de-aging potion for the past few months, referring to an old tome that belonged to an ancient alchemist. They had completed it, finally, and Leon had accidentally drank water from a glass that contained a little of the potion. It was, apparently, a very potent tonic, though they obviously hadn't been clued as to how effective it really was, considering the after effects. Had they known, the glass they had used certainly would not have been left for another to drink from.

Leon had been very sceptical of this explanation, and wouldn't believe it at first, but after thinking it through, there really couldn't be any other rationalization that would seem as strangely logical as theirs had been. He was still insistent on there being something other than their dabbling with ancient craft that was the cause of his 'problem', but eventually gave up arguing when he realized that he was uncomfortably semi-naked in the presence of two teenaged girls that were three times his size.

And so, with nothing else to be able to do, they had taken Leon back to Yuffie's house – it was the nearest – and had rummaged around for old children's clothes that would fit him. He had adamantly protested their mothering and constant teasing, fallibly fighting the girls off as they pinched his cheeks and preened him and had instead settled on glaring at them angrily whenever they went nuts over his new appearance. Aerith, being the more sympathetic of the two, eventually conceded and had nudged Yuffie into behaving, if only for a little while.

Of course, after all had been said and done, it didn't change the fact that Leon was still as cute as a button.

And that he had the chubbiest cheeks _ever_.

"I refuse to parade in public like this," he said brusquely, his voice louder and higher than usual so that it would somehow carry over Yuffie's muffled giggles, though his statement only made her giggle harder. Leon was properly dressed in a slightly loose grey T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts, his legs dangling over the stool and swinging back and forth slightly as children often did when restless, his arms crossed, eyeing the girls expectantly.

Aerith merely smiled weakly at him, pinching Yuffie discreetly.

"Well, we're not specifically asking you to parade around like this, Leon. But I don't think it would be wise if we let anyone else know about your, ah, current situation," she told him, nodding. Leon snorted, gaze severe, as he muttered, "No shit."

"Bad word! Little boys shouldn't be saying bad words!" Yuffie exclaimed before succumbing to a fit of sniggers, clutching her sides desperately as she reached out to pinch the boy's cheeks, only to have her hand swiped away irritably.

"Anyhow, practicing alchemy is prohibited and I loathe the current state of affairs. We are going to help each other, primarily because all the fault is yours," he continued, trying best to ignore Yuffie's advances on his hair. Aerith nodded again. She smiled when she saw him rubbing his eyes sleepily, trying to blink away the drowsiness.

"My father won't hear a word. You understand?" the boy commanded seriously, suppressing a yawn.

This time, there was a thoughtful pause from the girl.

"But, shouldn't he know? If he were to return to a house without a teenaged son, surely things would stir. . ."

"Precisely," Leon interrupted smoothly. "He brews a storm. Any bit of news gets to him and the whole town knows. Journalists are strange like that," he said calmly, raising his gaze so that he and Aerith maintained steady eye contact.

"Besides, he's currently on an assignment overseas and will return once the war in Wutai ends. That should be plenty of time for you two to make an antidote," he finished resolutely, leaning back slightly and crossing his arms again, his gaze stern and studious.

"Okay, then. That means that you shouldn't stay in your house, unless someone drops by and recognizes you from your baby pictures or something. . ." Yuffie vocalised suddenly, causing her seniors to stare at her. She had calmed down only a few minutes ago, and, realizing that there was trouble to be had and it included her, she had to at least try to patch things up somewhat.

"Okay," Aerith nodded slowly in agreement. "You'll have to go off on some road trip and leave the house key with one of us."

"I don't think I can go on a bleeding road trip in _this_ state," Leon argued impatiently, rubbing his eyes a little more furiously this time. It was strange for him to be feeling sleepy at this time of day, but already this body he was trapped in was beginning to display the wanton needs of a child.

"Obviously," Yuffie snapped in return. "That's just the excuse you'll be using. You'll _obviously_ have to stay with one of us until we get that antidote right. And simply because it's a simple fact that she's better at me than any of these things, you stay with Aerith."

"At _what_ kind of thing? I've been running my own life ever since I was 14. I think I can handle taking care of myself for a few weeks _just fine_."

"Yeah, right. You need a nap. You've been twiddling your thumbs and fidgeting like mad from sitting down for more than 10 minutes. You were giving a picture book a once over on your way in. And as flattering as you think being independent is, I'm sorry to say that you honestly can't cook for shit, Leon. Why do you think Laguna becomes extra twitchy when you decide to 'whip up a snack', eh? You may still be Leon in the head, but your body is a little boy's. I suggest you shut up and deal, because we'll be needing someone who has kid clothes, knows kid safety, knows kid attitude, knows kid food, and – god help me – actually knows how to cook!" Yuffie ended eloquently, throwing in all her arguments as bluntly as possible, because she knew that it was the only way anything could be drilled into Leon's stubborn head.

The boy frowned, glowering slightly, but he eventually conceded.

"Fine," he retorted. "I'm staying with Aerith. What excuse are you going to use then?"

"Uh. . . you're a cousin staying over with her for the summer?"

"Oh, no."

Leon and Yuffie turned to look at Aerith, who had a hand covering her mouth slightly as it had widened in revelation and shock. An extremely remorseful look crossed her features and she looked at both of them apologetically.

"My mother is coming over to take me on holiday for the summer. I won't be around, I'm sorry."

Leon gawked at her. Yuffie blanched.

"I am _not_ staying with Yuffie!"

"I can't take care of little kids! I don't know how! Heck, I can't even take care of myself!"

Calmly, Aerith folded her hands and looked at them, waiting for them to quieten down before she spoke. It took a few minutes, but both of them eventually managed to compose themselves once again, Yuffie and the young Leon shooting each other glares every now and then.

"Look, I'm sorry, Leon. I know you're only in this mess because of our carelessness. However, at the moment, we don't have much to negotiate, seeing as my mother will be coming tomorrow evening to pick me up. You can stay over tonight, if you'd like, though. We'll help fix your house up to make it seem like you went on a trip. We'll even send Laguna a letter, seeing as talking on the phone with your voice would. . . give away a few things."

"And Yuffie. Regardless of whether you can take care of a child or not, looking after Leon's health is _still_ your top priority, so it's best if you keep him where he'll always be visible to you. Leon is a capable 17 year old with more common sense than he seems to possess at the moment, so you'll have to trust him. I understand that it's primarily my fault, so I'll provide you with money and whatnot, but it's your fault, too, so you have to make the best of what you have."

Both of them were silent, acknowledging everything Aerith had said.

Leon did not look in any way happy.

_Hell_.

* * *

The only thing the boy had been able to do was quirk an eyebrow inquisitively at Yuffie's antics as she huffed into his house. 

The girl had stormed in in a hurry, mumbling to herself frenziedly as she stalked into the living room and collapsed on the couch.

Yuffie fell onto the furniture in a dispirited heap, disbelieving of the fact that she felt so incredibly _drained_. She had never before felt so lifeless, had never _ever_ recalled feeling as half-dead as she currently did. The twinkle in her eyes and the dimples in her cheeks were gone, her hair even more limp than usual. Her back was aching as though a few million watermelons were being launched headlong into her spine from 300 metres away. She squeezed her eyes shut, praying for sleep to take her.

There had never been a time when Yuffie needed a nap.

". . . damn shi. . . I _hate_. . . baby. . .sit. . . stard. . . stupid moro. . . hole. . ."

"Sounds like you're in trouble."

She shot up, eyes narrowing at the languid figure in the doorway.

Almost immediately, a weak grin spread across her face.

"Yeah well, I've never been good at temping."

Cloud merely raised a brow, nodding silently as he made a move to close the front door. Yuffie had propped herself up on her elbows and had already begun ranting her sorrows to the blond, face upset and voice tinged with a tone of deliria.

"It's just that it's been so crazy in my house lately, and suddenly, out of the blue, I'm left alone with my dad and I have to take care of this disagreeable brat who thinks he's the king of the world or something. He gets all snappy when you talk to him, and he won't listen to instructions, and you _know_ how much I suck at taking care of little kids, don't you? I have no idea how I got stuck with the little monster in the first place! I mean, sure he's cute and sweet looking with really soft hair and has the most adorable cheeks you wanna pinch, but his _attitude_ drives me nuts! And he has so much energy, _I_ can barely keep up with him, and-and-"

"Breathe, Yuffie. Breathe," Cloud told her, more out of habit whenever she began to hyperventilate than anything as he eyed her carefully, processing the information silently.

"You can't imagine how difficult it is to take care of the little kid! He's moody half the time, and when you think he'll actually lighten up or play or something, he completely catches you off guard and says something so blunt and unfeeling that you're just staring at him and wondering where the hell you went wrong! And the food he eats! I don't know how to make any of that, and it's so expensive to buy! He falls asleep on you when you're out and busy, and starts grumbling at you when you're trying to get him to do something! The worst part is I've got him _sick_ and I don't know what to do! He's just lying all spineless-like on the bed, and he's burning up like a volcano! He refuses to eat anything and pushed me away each time I take his temperature or bring up something for him to drink! Oh God, Cloud, I'm so scared!"

She paused, expression worried and desperate as she looked up at the older boy.

"Can you take care of him? You can take care of him! You do such an amazing job! You have a way with kids! Take care of him, Cloud, please! I'm _begging_ you!"

"Whoa, whoa there. Take care of who?"

Yuffie perked up almost immediately, scrambling to her feet, her eyes no longer downcast and despondent. In fact, now, they were shining with hope and excitement and expectation that Cloud felt a little bad just by looking at the sorry state she was in.

"He's a little boy, cute little shorty you'll absolutely _adore_. He's about 5 or 6, and he's, well," Yuffie paused, biting her lip hesitantly, "He's basically a stray Aerith picked up but couldn't take care of because her mum whipped her away to Destiny Islands for the summer. She left him with me! Can you believe it? I can barely take care of myself! And now I got him sick!" She had already gotten to him, tugging his sleeve desperately.

"Please, Cloud, I'm begging you! You're so much better at these kind of things than I am!"

Cloud was looking at the girl with a hopeless expression. He was already far too used to her pranks and jokes, but from the sheer distress that rolled of her in waves, plus her frantic tone and her panicked demeanour made him feel almost. . . sorry for her. She was on the brink of tears, as though a hurricane had taken grasp of her and shaken her violently enough to cause such serious trauma. From what he had heard, she had wanted to do some good, but it was obviously more than she could handle.

Cloud became still.

If Aerith had left a little boy with _Yuffie_. . .

"How long has he stayed with you?" Cloud asked quietly.

"Three days! I know it's been only three days, but I can't take it anymore! It's tough enough I have all those cats in my house, but taking care of a boy – solely – it's me biting off more than I can chew! I know, I know; it was unbearably stupid of me, but I-I don't know what to do!"

Three days?

With Yuffie?

Oh hell no.

"I'll take him," Cloud told her firmly before she could crack and start off on another rant. He shook her firmly by the shoulders, snapping her out of her stupor and repeating what he had just said, this time a little louder, so that she would finally calm down.

It took a while, but a small, shaky smile spread across her lips as she looked at the boy uncertainly.

"Re-really?"

Cloud nodded.

"For real?" She asked with a slight squeak. "You'll take care of the kid for me? You'll help make him eat and get better? For real?"

"For real, Yuffie. I'm sure my mum won't mind. There's an extra bed and we have enough room to accommodate one more, especially if he's just 5 or 6 years old. Are you gonna get him, or shall I come along if he doesn't want you to touch him?" Cloud asked calmly, rubbing her back in a soothing manner as she had latched onto his waist and buried her face into his stomach, letting out an overjoyed sob.

"Come with me! Come on! Right now!"

Yuffie sprung up with renewed fervour, grabbing Cloud by the wrist and striding out of the house towards her own residence a few streets down. He had initially wanted to protest at first. There was a lot of work involved in preparing to welcome someone else into a house, and he had wanted to at least get the kid's bed ready, but Yuffie had seemed so driven and worried that Cloud decided to take care of this matter first so that she could get what seemed like her first real rest after what seemed like weeks.

As he expected, her house was crawling with cats once they arrived. He gave one an affectionate scratch behind the ears as she fumbled with her keys, leading them upstairs to a room. From the hallway, he could hear throaty coughs from inside, and a strange, protective urge began to swell within his chest.

When he entered the room, his eyes landed on a small, petite figure buried under a bulky comforter, his white face tinged with a deep shade of red, eyes watery and half-lidded in drowsiness and exhaustion. Loose clothes hung to his small frame, drenched in sweat.

Cautiously, Cloud walked in and went to the boy's side, brushing away his long bangs and resting a hand on his forehead. Yuffie was at the foot of the bed, whimpering slightly at the boy whose pathetic state she so feared.

Cloud looked at the boy carefully, noticing the hazy swirl of grey and blue of his glazed eyes that he was having trouble keeping open. His lips were parted slightly, allowing harsh breaths and deep wheezing to pass through before his small body was wracked with another fit of coughs. His body was tense, frigid, as though unwilling for Cloud to touch him, but lacking enough energy to push him away. The boy was trying to let his eyes come back into focus so that the teenager would cease to be a blur, trying to squint up at him and put a name to the face he was peering at.

Cloud gave him a small, reassuring smile and murmured, "It's okay. Take it easy, I'm not here to hurt you."

"Well?" Yuffie managed weakly, looking up at Cloud.

"He's fine. He's probably got some sort of virus in his respiratory system. Kids get these a lot, especially if they are sensitive to dust or are asthmatic. I think he reacted to all the cat hair," Cloud paused, chuckling softly as he noticed Yuffie melt in relief. "He needs lots of water, lots of rest and nothing cold."

The girl nodded, getting to her feet and walking towards them. Cloud returned his gaze to the boy, trying to get the child to relax.

"Hey there, what's your name?"

Yuffie froze.

A name. They had completely forgot about a name to give to him should Leon be seen by outsiders. She wracked her brain, searching for something that would sound innocent enough, something without double meanings, and would be to Leon's tastes. If Leon didn't like the name Yuffie was going to label him with, well, she didn't want to think about the consequences that would occur once he got his body back to normal.

As Yuffie was busy with this internal debate, Cloud had leaned in slightly so that the boy could get a better view of him. He noticed the boy squint harder, eyebrows furrowing as he focused – _hard_ – on Cloud, eyes widening in something reminiscent to discovery as his gaze immediately hardened, lips twisting into a frown.

Cloud nearly chuckled out loud at the sight.

"Macho man, are you? Well, the name's Cloud."

The boy's glare intensified.

"Don't like the name 'macho man', eh? Well, unless I get a name out of you, that's all I'll probably be calling you."

A ghost of a smile whispered over Cloud's lips as he saw the irritable twitch in the child's left brow, frown deepening. His bottom lip protruded slightly, expression cold as he looked up at the teenager irritably.

"His name's Squall," Yuffie piped up, eyeing the boy nervously, afraid that something would compromise the only good thing that had happened to them thus far. She didn't need Cloud to suspect anything _really_ wrong with Leon, not at this point. Cloud had already agreed to take care of him, and their rivalry be damned, she would make sure that Leon stayed healthy and _alive_ even if it meant putting him with the person he hated the most.

Cloud glanced at Yuffie briefly before returning his gaze to the boy.

"Squall," he said softly, as though testing it on his lips. "That's a good name. Squall," Cloud told him gently, allowing a miniscule smile to curl at his lips as he nodded to the child.

With that said, he rolled up his sleeves slightly and immediately set out to do the task he had come to do. Cloud's hands each went to Squall's side, sliding under the blankets and comforter and, finding the boy's heated body, wedged them between his back and the mattress to pull him up so that he could carry him.

When Squall began to struggle a little and push away, Cloud had frowned, but wasn't deterred from his undertaking. He instead shifted his grip slightly and moved the boy so that he would be more comfortable in his arms. Squall was surprisingly light for a boy, and was petite and small for his age. Nevertheless, the rough shoves and pushes that he was receiving, accompanied by some annoyed grunts from the kid made Cloud pause and hold him firmly, in a manner he often used when dealing with children.

It must have worked, for Squall had immediately quietened down, and Yuffie, who had been looking on apprehensively had slumped in relief to see that the blond knew how to handle children, as she had expected and hoped. Satisfied, Cloud brought Squall closer to him and flattened the child's body against his chest, letting his head rest on his own shoulder as he patted his back soothingly.

He continued to do so as Squall continued to squirm, rocking him back and forth until the boy eventually conceded and leaned against him for some measure of rest. His fever was making him feel drained.

Once Cloud was certain that he had Squall settled in, he turned to Yuffie and asked her to pack up his clothes and bring it over to his own house, to which the girl had delightedly agreed to after seeing that tactful display of skill, and he had then started to walk back to his own home, boy nestled comfortably in his arms.

As he stepped out of Yuffie's residence, a cold blast of wind hit them, causing Squall to shiver visibly. Cloud squinted upwards past his overgrown bangs, noting the swirls of dark clouds that had already gathered in the sky. Leaves were sweeping through the streets as a warm breeze gusted through, the tepid waves of a storm rolling through the area as a humid air settled itself on the neighbourhood.

Taking note of the heavy rain that was sure to fall, Cloud huddled Squall closer and began to walk briskly to his own house, gingerly holding the boy as he fished out his keys with his right hand once he reached the front door.

Squall had shifted in his grip, and, taking the opportunity to peer at the boy, he noticed that he was trying to blink sleep away. A ghost of a smile curled at his lips at the simply adorable display, and Cloud treaded into his room softly, setting the child on the bed and ruffling his hair slightly before ducking into the toilet to dig around for a spare towel.

From the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Squall rubbing his eyes furiously, looking around the room, the scowl on his face growing deeper as he recognized the room as the teenager's. The boy coughed lightly, but otherwise kept his vigilance.

* * *

In all honesty, he had not known what had transpired within the last 15 minutes. 

One minute, he had been attempting to rest in Yuffie's cat hair-covered room, coughing and sneezing his lungs out, and the next, he had been whipped away in a pair of slightly muscular arms after being teased, pressed up against a warm chest, and had arrived in a bedroom as his kidnapper left him to orient himself with his new environment.

He was praying to God that the fact that his kidnapper happened to be bearing the face of one Cloud Strife had only been a hallucination due to the abominable illness of which he was currently suffering.

Because a day can only go so bad.

It didn't help at all that his throat was itchy, his head was heavy, his body fatigued, his back was throbbing, his knees were hurting, and that his eyes absolutely _refused_ to stay open. Argh, damn it all.

But as he continued to observe this strange turn of events, he couldn't help but allow that sinking feeling to engulf him; he had a little trouble keeping his emotional defences up when his head was threatening to split open 46 different angles with several different and increasing degrees of pain.

It was definitely _Cloud_ who had taken it upon himself to take care of him.

A day can only go so bad.

"Hey, if you keep making that face it'll stick that way, Squall," an implausibly soft voice told him amusedly as a fluffy towel sailed through the air and landed on his face. Getting it off of him, the boy trained his eyes on the blond for, an albeit sleepy version, of a poisonous glare.

Cloud _chuckled_.

"Come on. We have to get you clean of all that cat hair or you'll never get better."

He felt a pair of strong hands reaching for his armpits, raising him in the air and pulling him up against that chest again, the blond tipping over to the side to pick up the towel that the boy had discarded earlier. He felt his entire body bounce in rhythm to Cloud's with every step the teenager took towards a brightly lit, tiled room.

It smelled vaguely of peaches, though he was certain it was probably some simple soap that had been used on a frequent basis. It was white and sterile, toiletries neatly arranged on plastic shelves that had been nailed to walls. A porcelain toilet bowl was straight ahead, a sink on the right wall. Some in-built closets were situated by the sink. There was a tub towards the left, a showerhead hanging in its holder at the same level as the metal bar that the plastic shower curtains had been draped on.

With a light 'clunk', he noticed that the toilet seat had been lowered, and that he himself had been set down. Looking up, he noticed that Cloud had his gaze averted, busy lifting his shirt over his head.

Immediately, his eyes shot open. He began to pull it back down, a low growl sounding as he glowered at the teenager, the drowsiness he had experienced no longer plaguing his wretchedly small body as he drew away from Cloud, slapping his hands and attempting to kick him in the shins, grunting intermittently in the process.

It was bad enough that he had to _be_ with Cloud, but damn it all to hell if he didn't at least put up a decent fight. He was _not_ going to let some blond bimbo undress him and then dump him in a tub of water!

Cloud frowned. Something was off with this kid, something was. Disagreeable, most definitely. Bipolar? It seemed to be the case. No wonder Yuffie had been having the worst of troubles taking care of Squall. He was – what was the word. . . _demanding_. That's it. Demanding. Had to have everything his way, and absolutely hated change of any sort. Of all the strays for Aerith to pick up. . .

He shook his head inwardly, ignoring the boy's valiant efforts to evade the impending bath and proceeded to slip the shirt off of him in one fluid motion. The pants came off with another well-practised movement, and all that was left were his underwear.

Cloud paused, looking at the boy. He was hugging himself in a vain attempt to come off as decent, regarding Cloud with an enraged expression as his small body trembled with anxiety and fury, mingling with the repercussions of his sickness. His teeth were bared, and his eyes had been narrowed dangerously so, his entire body a deathly sort of pale, his clenched fists drained of any real colour.

Cloud forced himself to calm down, taking a few deep breaths before slowly approaching Squall, reaching out for the boy only to have his hand roughly slapped away. He tried again, and the same thing happened.

He let out small breath through his nose, looking at Squall with a somnolent, tender expression, standing still for a moment. He noticed the boy's harsh breaths gradually smoothen out, the shivering slowly subsiding. He was still shaking, but this time only from the cold. Cloud seized the opportunity to gently pick Squall up, holding him close to himself before manoeuvring to the tub that had already been filled with warm water earlier when he had been hunting around for a towel.

Cloud set Squall down, pulling off the last article of clothing before he was lowered into the tub. Cloud folded up his sleeves again, reaching for a washcloth and dipping it into the water before slowly, gently wiping Squall down.

He had simmered down, finally, and was extremely quiet as the teenager washed him. The only other time he had begun to fight back again was when Cloud had attempted to wash his hair, but even so, he had given up fighting the losing battle and instead preferred to stare down miserably into the water. Squall had stopped sneezing for quite a bit, though sometimes he was seized by a fit of small coughs, hiccupping slightly in what seemed like suppressed tears.

Cloud felt sympathetic for the kid, he really did. It wasn't nice to be uprooted the way he had been.

But if he wanted to pull through, he would have to put up for a bit.

* * *

Hatred filled him. 

It was not possible for him to be filled with as much repugnance and odium as he did then.

Not only had he been de-aged by some nonsensical potion whipped up by two pubescent girls, he had been left behind with _Yuffie_ of all people, had gotten one faceful too many of her cats, had gotten horribly sick, had been dragged away by a blond moron, and then forced to live with him.

He had been seen. Naked.

By the person he hated the most.

Who happened to have also bathed him.

Gently, which was odd, considering the person. He had never thought of Cloud as someone who had such a mild touch, had never recalled seeing as many smiles on his face throughout his life as he had in the past few hours. He had such a tender expression, had looked at him so kindly and affectionately, it was hard to remember that this was the same Cloud who whispered wishes of death on him every other time. Cloud's hands were rough and calloused, but they were also petite, and his touches were light and fleeting, almost like he wasn't really there. He had heard the blond chuckle, which was a nice sound on anyone but it just seemed to. . . fit. It fit Cloud. He had only ever heard the teen curse and growl and hiss at him angrily, but now that he had heard that soft laughter, he decided that it was a nice sound.

Wait a minute.

He did not just think that.

Cloud was _not_ a nice guy; he was a pissy little shit who liked to pick fights with him just because. Cloud did _not_ have a tender expression; he was a moron who was dull and had the facial expression of a rotting potato. Cloud did _not_ have a gentle touch; he was a rough barbarian who knocked down everything he saw and demolished anything he got his hands on. Cloud did _not_ have a nice laugh.

He didn't.

But even so, he was already starting to tune out the voices in his mind arguing the points and the counterpoints as he felt the lazy waves of sleep overcome him. Too tired to do away with the drowsiness, Squall allowed Cloud to pull on a loose shirt over his head, allowed himself to be lowered on the bed, allowed Cloud to gently pull up the blanket and tuck him in.

He was just so unnervingly exhausted, he had even forgotten to voice out his protest when Cloud brushed his hair out of his face and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, murmuring a quiet, "Rest well."

His eyes were already closed when the lights were switched off, the door closing silently as he finally let himself rest in the warmth of the room, the softness of the bed, let himself drown in a faintly familiar fragrance that permeated the house, and willed himself to sleep for the first time in what seemed like weeks.

* * *

**A/N:**

Ahahaha. It's been too long, yes, it has. D:

So. Hanae reporting for duty. Since people seem to only associate Hanae with smut, Hanae would like to abolish that stereotype and has thus written a fluffy, sappy fic for your reading pleasure that is, hopefully, going to be worthwhile (for you and me). -- (I hate emotes)

Check out my livejournal (that's where I've disappeared to now, so sorry). My username is hanae0711. :3

PLEASE DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT FORWARD MOTION OR REBIRTH PLZKTHX. (I promise THEY WILL BE UPDATED. Just not, y'know... _SOON_ ...)

That said, review please. 8D


	2. Chapter 2

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 02  
Words: 8 365  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): CL (if you _want_), eventual LC  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
Rated: R

* * *

It was warm.

He could feel the light streaming in through the windows and casting patches of warm sunrays on his face, making his brows knit a little at the intrusive light, though it was strangely comforting. Soothing. Warm. Like a sort of reassuring consolation that the world was still spinning on its axis, that birds were still soaring freely through the skies, that he and everyone close to him were still alive and well, that summer was here and that everything else was, relatively, normal.

Yes. It was consolation.

He was one usually early to rise, but thoughts of summer holiday made him feel lazier than usual, and so he decided to have a lie in. To face what horrors would await him, he'd need rest – plenty of it.

Not that he didn't get any rest the night before. In fact, he felt completely refreshed; more ignited than he did in days. Staying at Yuffie's was a downright _chore_, and with his new stature, he found scrapes and bruises adorning his knees and forearms with each passing day due to all his tripping over her cats. Maybe that's how he got sick.

Speaking of which, he really did feel better. His head wasn't hammering brutally as it had the day before, and his throat felt less constricted. Less dry and hoarse. He coughed lightly, his eyes peeking open to some extent, squinting as he momentarily allowed his vision to adjust. He had been awake for quite sometime already, but he was less than inclined to get up as memories of the day before returned to him.

He was in a comfortable, homey room. It wasn't very big, but it was cosy and somehow just right for one person to stay in. The walls were a watery shade of blue, the panels at the top and bottom of them a smooth white. The ceiling was painted a matching colour, though the wear and tear was apparent – the paint was cracking at the corners. A couch and some bookshelves were set up against a wall, a large window with blinds not drawn on top of the desk, beside a tall rack. Posters were taped on neatly to the walls with yellowed scotch tape, a bag and some shoes that had been messily kicked off lying at the foot of the couch. A jacket and a pair of jeans lay beside them.

Allowing his gaze to wander, he studied the photographs that had been neatly framed and hung on the walls. Quite a number of them were old – black and white. They consisted of a couple and a few children, in a large garden in front of an old Victorian house. They looked so. . . happy. Carefree. The married pair – or so he would assume – looked at peace with the world, as though all their dreams had come true. A small boy was latching onto the woman's hand, hiding behind her as he peeked shyly at the camera.

He turned to look at the bed he was currently resting in, vaguely noting that it was comfortable and much softer than the ones he remembered using at both his house and Yuffie's. They were a plain, blue colour, to match the walls, but there were a few telltale chocobos printed on the blankets. He pulled at the comforter slightly, huddling it closer to himself.

And then, he groaned softly as he noticed the small hands and the willowy legs that came into view.

Wasn't a nightmare. As usual.

Piqued, he squeezed his eyes shut, the frown already marring his face as he dove back into the bed, nestling deeper under the covers, flopping over and burying his head into the pillow. There was that nice, clean scent he liked that engulfed him as he did so, making him submerge himself deeper as a way to ignore the painful situation at hand. If there was anything else that was even vaguely consoling aside from the warm morning sun, it was how heady this smell made him feel whenever he came across it. He continued to snuggle the pillow, relaxing, until a faintly horrific thought struck him.

What if this was what Cloud smelled like?

"Morning there, tiger. Feeling up to some breakfast?"

Speak of the devil.

**xxx**

Squall absolutely refused to eat. He was glaring unapologetically at the blond teenager, scowling as Cloud started to do that silly 'Open up for the aeroplane!' thing with the spoon and the soup. Honestly, it didn't suit the usually stoic teen, and it made him look downright stupid. Squall _had_ eyed the food, but he was smart enough to not trust anything that came out of Cloud's household, much less since it somehow occurred to him that _Cloud_ had made it. Imagine the many scales of pain Squall would have been subjected to if he even dared to swallow a spoonful!

No matter how mouth-wateringly delicious it looked, there was no way in hell he was going to eat something _Cloud_ made.

And he wasn't going to be spoon-fed either, dammit.

Squall crossed his arms, glowering at Cloud as he purposely looked away, refusing to allow the blond the satisfaction of being able to make him mellow down and sticking a spoon into his mouth. When Cloud persisted further in his efforts, Squall scooted away, lower lip jutting out and making his pout seem dangerously cute what with the way his round eyes narrowed into a would-be scathing glare.

He heard an amused snort from the teen at this sight, and he intensified his glare, though this only made Cloud clamp a hand over his mouth and look away, trying to keep himself from full-blown laughter.

This obstinacy from the child continued on for about 10 more minutes before Cloud's patience wore down a little, and he set the bowl of soup down on the bedside, looking at Squall with a touch of vexation. Squall simply returned the gaze with a biting look of his own, engaging a brief staring contest between the two before Cloud let out a quiet sigh.

"I'll give it to you straight, kid. You're sick. You're body fluids are low. You haven't eaten for 2 days. I know you're sharp, so I would expect you to at least know all this and be smart enough to eat _something_," he stressed the last word, making it sound a little urgent.

Squall simply raised his eyebrows, though the cool exterior he had been hoping to project failed miserably as a sneeze escaped him. He sniffed a little, about to wipe his nose with the back of his hand when a handkerchief was already there, pinching it slightly and simply remaining, as though waiting for Squall to blow his nose.

Dumbly, he did, and Cloud, seemingly satisfied that the boy was at least starting to be a little less vicious, began to wipe him clean before folding the hankie into small squares and pocketing it. He noticed the boy still a little stunned by the small exchange that had transpired between them and he smilingly gave that small nose a tap before getting up and walking out of the room.

The door was still ajar, and as he watched Cloud disappear down the hallway, a scowl made its way to Squall's face. He rubbed his nose slightly, staring at his blanketed feet as he began internally to berate himself.

How could he have just given in so easily? He did not just let Cloud Strife blow his nose! He did not just let Cloud Strife baby him! Argh, what the _hell_ was happening!

And why did he have a sudden craving for macaroni and cheese!

Feeling onslaughts of a headache already picking at his brain, Squall pinched the bridge of his nose in hopes of toning it down or warding it off, closing his eyes irritably as he slouched, realizing that his stomach was being cruel to him and rumbling loudly, screaming at him to get some macaroni and cheese. He grumbled to himself tetchily, though he _was_ hungry and he knew that he _did_ need to have something to eat.

He tried to ignore it, diving back under the blankets. The rumbling didn't cease, rather, it intensified, and Squall was already moaning slightly at the longing ache in his tummy. He squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to go back to sleep, but his stomach was calling out to him and he couldn't ignore it. Squall had to eat _something_, and it didn't matter if it was or wasn't macaroni and cheese.

He opened his eyes, staring at the door quietly as he thought about a solution. Squall could just tiptoe down into the kitchen and make himself a sandwich. Quietly, of course. Wouldn't want to gain the blond's attention and _then_ get him to make the food for him. _That's_ when he'd start getting worried. He could do just that, could just run to the kitchen and make himself something, but he felt weak and his stomach was empty.

Squall paused a while in his musings, eyeing the bowl of soup on the bedside.

It was just soup, wasn't it? It was probably canned; no way he'd get poisoned easily if all Cloud had to do was add water. He didn't have to eat it _all_, just a little bit to give him enough strength to make that sandwich. Just a spoonful or two; Cloud wouldn't have enough evidence to suggest that he had eaten any of the soup at all.

Warily, Squall leaned over to the side and took hold of the spoon, carefully scooping up some of the soup and bringing it to his lips. It was still hot, and a small moan of pleasure escaped him before he could help himself. It was creamy chicken soup, and had a very light and smooth flavour that slid down his throat easily, making him crave for more. Even his stomach gurgled in delight, begging to be filled with more of the soup. Mindlessly, Squall did so, picking up the tray and setting it on his lap so that he could eat more, and eat more quickly, without spilling any of the soup on the floor.

He closed his eyes and he spooned more of it into his mouth, licking his lips and willing the flavour to linger. It seemed like such a long time since he had last eaten anything that had tasted as good. Every additional spoonful he ate didn't seem to be enough; he wanted _more_.

Squall kept feeding himself more and more of the soup as his stomach was starting to fill, sating his hunger, until the spoon hit the bottom of the bowl with a slight chink. Squall blinked, looking down to find that he had completely finished the bowl. He found himself staring at it for a moment before realizing to his horror that he had finished the food Cloud had made for him.

He had just wanted a spoonful! How did he get this out of control and proceed to polish off the entire bowl!

Scowling, Squall returned the tray to the bedside and threw the sheets off of him huffily, climbing off the bed and pulling up the large, non-fitting shirt that had slid off and exposed a creamy shoulder during his sleep. He patted down his sleep-mussed hair and looked around, spotting a clean pile of familiar clothes that had been neatly folded and placed on a low stool in the corner of the room by the door.

Squall walked up to it, noticing that it had that clean smell he liked and took the topmost shirt from the stack, scrutinizing it and noticing that it had been washed, along with the other clothes. He scanned the other articles of clothing briefly before picking off a pair of trousers and, spotting a plastic bag went closer to inspect the things inside. There was that irritatingly new smell that always accompanied new clothes, so when he dug around the bag, he saw that it was chock full of undergarments for kids.

He picked one out, and, to his horror, realized that he was to wear _briefs_.

Squall stood still for a long while, staring incredulously at the underwear in hand that he was expected to don before realizing that, no matter how much he hoped or prayed, there was no way the potion would wear off and he would suddenly turn back into a 17 year old teenager, thereby allowing him the grace of stealing some of Cloud's clothes – he wore _boxers_, if that clean pair in a pile by the couch was anything to go by – and then run back to his own home, cleansing his mind of any of these remotely sacrilegious memories and experiences and thus resuming his boring, everyday, normal life routines.

He let out a quiet, dismal sigh before clutching the clothes to his chest and quietly walking towards the bathroom, tiptoeing to grasp the knob before closing the door silently behind him.

Squall lowered the cover of the toilet seat, setting his things on top of it before eyeing the closet, going up to it and pulling out a fluffy blue towel that was situated in a conveniently low shelf. He undressed himself (though all he wore was only an oversized t-shirt that probably belonged to Cloud) and climbed carefully into the tub, tiptoeing again and pulling at the plastic hose connected to the shower head for a few minutes before successfully getting the object to topple from its holder and fall within arms reach.

As Squall allowed the soothing sprays of hot water wash him, he closed his eyes and collected his thoughts, reflecting on his current predicament and, for the first time, wondered if he should attempt to make the best of what he had and try to settle himself in. Get more comfortable.

He let out his breath in a frustrated huff, directing the showerhead to his visage as he rubbed his face with his other hand.

Squall? Get comfortable in _Cloud Strife's house_? Even the most asinine of donkeys knew better than to do _that_. He was being babied and fussed over as a mother hen would her chicks. It felt even more degrading what with the way Cloud teetered over him like he was some sort of retarded individual. And to think that _Cloud_ would be the one to cook his meals and basically care for him. He wouldn't survive the week. He wouldn't.

He couldn't help the small smirk that made its way to his lips as he recalled managing a kick or two on the blond, but not receiving anything harsh or even remotely critical in return. Squall had nearly forgotten the obstinacy children possessed, and their innate talent to get away with even murder when pitted against the right people.

Cloud happened to be one of those 'right people'.

There was something that he recalled Yuffie say. . .

Oh. Right.

_'Cloud always was a sucker for little kids.'_

The smirk on his lips widened marginally as plans began to formulate in his mind. His expression darkened as his frustration and initial distaste seeped away, lifting the tension that had weighed down on his small body and leaving him with something light and familiarly devious, a ripple of thrill tingling down his spine. He almost rubbed his hands together in glee at the things he would be setting out to do.

After all, while he was here, he might as well make full use of his current situation and make Cloud's life a living hell.

He was not one to be _babied_.

And Cloud was going to learn that the hard way.

**xxx**

_'This thing is just so damn. . . _snug_.'_

Squall felt a little uncomfortable as he walked down the corridor, pausing to adjust his underwear for what seemed like the hundredth time before entering a large room that appeared to be the living area. There were 3 downy couches that had been arranged neatly on something of a lowered platform, the parquet floors covered with a thick rug. A small TV stood on an antique counter, a VCR and tape player set in place inside it. A diminutive glass coffee table was situated in front of the TV and in between two of the couches. Underneath it were books and magazines.

Squall noted that the house was well kept, though there was the occasional out-of-place book or sneaker here and there. The route around the house was simple enough, and after a little exploring, the layout had already been memorized, more or less.

The house was a comfy, single storey building that had been built with high ceilings and had a small front yard. The main entrance led directly to the living room, and there was an entryway without a door that led from the living room to the kitchen. He entered the kitchen, noticing a few sheets of paper fanned out across the surface wooden dining table. Squall peered at it curiously, noting numbers etched and several figures crossed out violently with a red pen.

Cloud was standing in front of the sink, pouring some hot water into a mug. He heard the tread of nimble feet and turned around slightly to notice Squall peeking out at him from behind the doorway. He gave the boy a small smile and nodded slightly, gesturing for him to come inside. Squall merely raised his eyebrows before making his way in, looking around to see what he could use to his aid his Machiavellian plot.

Now, what would kids at the age of 5 or 6 do. . .?

Make paper planes seemed to be one of them. Those papers on the table seemed a little important to the blond, what with the way the plates of food on the table were kept at some careful distance away from them. Kids also generally enjoyed making lots of unnecessary noise and liked running around at top speed, knocking down everything in their path.

Squall wrinkled his nose slightly. He wouldn't mind making paper planes, upsetting an item or two, or even drawing on the walls. Running around, babbling a mile a minute like Yuffie? He thought not.

Ah, kids also liked asking superfluous questions that would make an adult sheepish in their attempts in answering. That, he could do.

Walking into adults while they were carrying things seemed like an easy way to cause a mess and get away with it. He'd do that too.

As Squall continued to think out the various methods to set Cloud off, the blond had already walked over to him and picked him up, walking towards a kitchen counter. Squall blinked out of his thoughts as he looked at the teenager who had a hand on his forehead, checking for a temperature. Those blond brows were furrowed in concentration, lips forming a small pout before he removed his hand with a satisfied sound, giving the boy a kind look and saying, "You're much better now. Still have a slight fever, but you'll be fine by tomorrow."

Cloud set Squall down on the countertop, moving away to take a jar of sugar to spoon into the mug of hot chocolate he had been making earlier, Squall only eyeing him warily as he did so.

"Did you take a shower by yourself?" Cloud asked conversationally, stirring the contents of the drink. Squall didn't answer, and when Cloud looked up to meet his eye, an expression of resignation crossed his features.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

Squall raised his eyebrows sardonically.

Cloud chuckled, "My bad."

He taste-tested the drink with the teaspoon and made sure that it wasn't too hot before setting it down beside the boy, putting the jar back into the cabinet and washing his hands. The house phone rang and he darted to the kitchenette, pulling the phone off its hook and answering the call.

"Yeah, yeah. I've been expecting you. No, it's fine. . ."

Cloud left the sentence hanging and engaged in a lingering silence, nodding his head and making occasional reassuring sounds to show that he was listening or agreeing with the speaker on the other end. The other person was probably giving him a long-winded explanation of sorts, and Squall only caught fractions of what Cloud was saying as he kept his gaze trained on the teenager, lifting the mug to his lips and sipping the hot chocolate absentmindedly.

"But we've already paid off the loan, there shouldn't be anything left over. . ." Cloud said, a little alarm tingeing his tone as his eyes widened at the answer the speaker on the other end gave him. "But we don't have enough money!" he exclaimed, quickly realizing how loud he had been, his eyes darting to Squall and giving him an apologetic look as he brought both hands to cup the mouth of the receiver, speaking in an undertone.

Squall downed the drink in thirsty gulps, pausing when Cloud had made that exclamation, looking – _hard_ – at the teenager and lowering his mug, quietening in order to listen in on the conversation.

"Look," Cloud began in a controlled voice, much like the one he had used when he spoke to the brunet on that final day of school. "We don't need anymore debts. We didn't ask for that guy's help, so how can we be expected to pay additional service charges? We still have the car loan to pay as it is, and with the extra bills. . ."

There was a pause.

"What do you mean you didn't receive any money?"

Squall found that he had strained his ears to hear what else Cloud said, but the teenager had been reduced to nods and grunts as the speaker began to talk again, the blond eventually heaving a heavy sigh and muttering a dismal, "Goodbye," before hanging up.

Cloud walked over to the sink again, switching on the tap and retrieving the now-empty cup from Squall's grip to wash. He let out a quiet breath as he began to scrub the inside of the crockery with soap, frowning thoughtfully. Only when Squall began to mindlessly swing his legs in his childish boredom did Cloud realize he wasn't alone, looking up at the boy and smiling at him half-heartedly.

"You're really quiet," he said gently, expression softening almost immediately. "I nearly forget you're there sometimes. You must be your parents' golden boy."

For some odd reason, Squall felt his defensive demeanour assuage with Cloud's words. He was being honest; sincere – unlike how he usually acted whenever he was in school or with others. Squall found himself wondering vaguely if Cloud was always this open with children, if Yuffie's revelation unwittingly held astute truth.

At the boy's silence, Cloud eased, smilingly giving Squall a tap on the nose before picking him up again and setting him on the ground. Cloud lightly ruffled his hair before murmuring about his mother and some remaining chores that he had to complete. He ran a hand through his unmanageable spikes and briefly scanned Squall.

"You need to sit still in a clean place while I work. Do you like books?"

Squall didn't say anything, merely shifting his weight to his other foot. Cloud grinned in response, bending over and scooping him up, walking down the corridor quietly. Squall had struggled a little initially, but after remembering that he wanted to make Cloud's life more difficult, he consoled himself with the thought that he was saving energy and making the blond more tired by allowing himself to be carried by Cloud.

They entered an area that Squall had never seen before, and he eyed the place curiously as Cloud opened a small white door, ducking slightly so that he wouldn't bang his forehead against the low doorway. Inside, the boy found himself struck with awe.

Though Squall hadn't answered Cloud's question regarding his interest in reading, it was an unwritten fact that his lifestyle was reigned by books. In his home, every corner was piled with magazines, novels, paperbacks, and other forms of reading material. It was difficult to find anything else aside from books due to his father's sloppiness in organizing the household, and the pure magnitude of books he owned.

However, as Squall was set down onto the ground by the blond teenager, he couldn't help but gape in wonder at the sheer size of the study – as he assumed the room to be – taking into consideration how small the house seemed to be from outside.

"You like it?" Cloud asked quietly, smiling softly as Squall was rooted to the ground, gawking at the room, completely enthralled. "It belonged to my dad. He collected all this when he was still around."

Cloud walked towards a book case, bending over and taking out a book, running a hand along the cover before flipping through the first few pages. "A lot of the story books are on the lower shelves. My dad put them there so I could read them easily without bothering him to fetch any of them for me," he said, squatting down and setting the book he held on the ground. He scanned the book titles briefly before taking one out, standing up. He walked to Squall and squatted down, pressing the book in his hands.

"This is my favourite. I made my mum read it to me every night before I went to bed. I'm not sure if you'll like it," he paused hesitantly, gaze averting, "But it's here if you want to read it. You keep yourself busy, I'll be doing chores. If you want anything, just call me, okay?"

Cloud gave Squall's nose a tap, to which the boy wrinkled his nose glaringly, and chuckled as he got to his feet, brushing off imaginary dust from his knees before walking out, leaving the door only somewhat ajar.

Squall's eyes narrowed as they followed Cloud's lithe figure out the room, scowling at the way he had been so childishly treated before allowing his gaze to trail to the book in his hands. It was a worn hardback, the colours of the cover faded, yellowing. There was a picture of an illustrated lion and a wolf on the cover, along with a star-shaped fruit sitting on a rock between them. He gave the book a once over before tossing it to the side, grumbling about his undermined treatment as he stalked towards a bookshelf.

Read a book Cloud had asked him to?

Fat chance.

Cloud's father, on the other hand, had fine taste when it came to reading. His collection of novels spanned the works of many famous authors, and, as Squall amusedly flicked through a thick paperback, covered many different genres though. . . _scandalous_ in nature. He had a feeling that, if Cloud were to walk in while Squall was scanning the 'book', the teenager would throw a hysterical fit.

Entertained by the notion, Squall read through the preface before setting it back in place, scanning the other titles before pulling out a few books to his liking and setting them on the ground. With this newfound discovery of a discerning library that would help him remain reasonably sane and dignified, Squall settled in a corner and immersed himself, firm on spending the bulk of his time as a child in the study and away from Cloud.

**xxx**

"You left him with Cloud!"

"Not so loud, Aerith!"

"You left him with the person he hates the most, Yuffie! I'm panicking right now!"

"I wouldn't worry _too_ much, if I were you. . ."

". . . what do you mean by that?"

"Well. . . Cloud doesn't exactly. . . know?"

". . ."

"Come on, Cloud's a sucker for kids! He melts completely whenever he sees a cute kid! And you know how adorable Leon is as a little boy. Put two and two together and, poof! Instant win."

". . ."

"Okay, not melt per se, but he goes gaga over children. And he's really good at taking care of them, too. Really! He's always so different with children, you won't think he's Cloud anymore. He smiles and jokes and plays with them! And, he can actually cook! Why do you think little Marlene and Denzel are completely in love with him?"

". . ."

"It'll be fine! He took care of me when we were younger and look at what a good job he did!"

". . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ."

"Hello? You still there, Aerith?"

"This is a dream. I'm dreaming right now. I will put the phone down and lie on the couch. And then, I will close my eyes and go back to sleep. When I wake up, everything will have blown over and this would have all been a dream."

"Err, Aerith?"

"After all, Leon did not turn into a little boy. And then, little boy Leon was not left with Cloud. Because, as common sense will allow, Leon and Cloud living together would have caused _Armageddon_."

". . . Aerith?"

"In fact, if such a thing were to have even been _suggested_, our whole town would no longer exist and would be just a hole in the ground."

"Umm, yoo-hoo? Aerith?"

". . . Yuffie."

"Yeah?"

"Please tell me that I'm dreaming."

"Ah, crap. Reminds me, I have to drop off more kiddie clothes at Cloud's house after this. Oh, hey, I called them up last night and Cloud's absolutely crazy over Squall, even if the kid's a little annoying. Squall is Leon, by the way. Silly of us not to have come up with a name, eh?"

"But. . ."

"He says the brat's disagreeable, but okay on the whole. Thinks the kid needs to go out and make friends or get to do something he likes or something like that. Cloud knows best, so I'm leaving all of that to him. Cloud thinks the kid needs to be comfortable or some crap like that, so he's been asking me if he has any favourite food and I've been giving him a list of everything Leon likes to eat. I'm busy today, so I'll try and visit them tomorrow or this weekend or something, you know? Check on Squall and see if anything's wrong. Hey, my dad's home. I'll call you later, okay?"

"Yuffie. . ."

"Everything'll be fine! Trust me!"

A sigh.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Yuffie."

"I do! Everything is gonna be A-okay!"

"Oh, all right. Goodbye, Yuffie."

"See ya. Have fun at the beach!"

**xxx**

The first thing that graced Cloud's face as he poked his head into the study was a smile.

He had been working diligently at his chores as usual, spending a few good hours doing nothing else but housework after ushering Squall into his father's study. After that, Cloud had taken a brief rest and was already pouring over papers and research documents at the dining table. He had been completely engrossed in his work that the sky had already started to darken by the time he began. His mother had long ago set out for the graveyard shift at the hospital where she worked, but Cloud had sat her down before she left and talked to her about Squall and his intentions in housing the boy until Aerith returned. Thankfully, she had understood and allowed Squall to stay.

It was only when his stomach began to growl did Cloud take a break from his work, setting down the pen and calculator and cleaning up the documents to work on later. As he prepared some snacks to eat, he remembered suddenly that they had had a new addition to the household and that he was to prepare food for two instead of one as of present time.

Cheerfully, he started making tea, hot chocolate and cakes, setting the table for two before he walked over to the study to fetch his charge.

And Cloud honestly couldn't help that smile.

Lying curled up on the floor, books scattered around him with one opened up to a certain page and acting as his pillow was Squall, fast asleep beside a book shelf. Sound asleep, Squall was like a little angel, his face tranquil and undisturbed; no longer hardened to reveal that defensive, overly-mature exterior.

When Cloud had first spoken to Squall, he had been thoroughly surprised with that quiet and closed-off demeanour that usually only older, jaded individuals possessed. He had been impressed with the maturity Squall displayed, but at the same time felt as though it didn't suit him at all – didn't suit anyone at all – felt that he had been forced to grow up far too fast.

Then again, his conduct could easily be explained by the fact that he had been a street child Aerith had picked up, and that he had probably lived a very hard life prior to this. Nevertheless, Cloud would have half-expected an orphan – an urchin, no less – to be at least happy that he was in a home with other people and a safe place to stay.

He supposed it was hypocritical on his behalf, but Cloud believed that he saw himself in the boy, and decided that it wasn't something that he wanted to see in anyone at all.

After marking the page of the book the boy had been using as a pillow, Cloud had gently gathered Squall in his arms, carrying him to the living room and setting him down on a sofa. The boy had roused about a half hour later to find a thin blanket draped across his small figure and some food set on the coffee table in front of him, the blond teenager busying himself with the few messes Squall had left behind in his wake.

As he nibbled on a teacake, Squall fully recovered from his nap and remembered his ploy to make Cloud's life difficult. Frowning, he mentally chided himself for drinking most of the hot chocolate in the process of waking up and made up for that little slip by upsetting the mug and allowing the remnants of his drink to stain the rug carpeting the parquet floor. As messily as he could, he finished off the food and left crumbs all over the furniture and floor, smearing the coffee table with chocolate-covered fingers.

Squall felt almost proud of the uncharacteristic clutter he had created, that ounce of pride he felt rapidly swelling into smugness as Cloud returned to the living room to find the new mess he was to clean.

Giving the coffee table and the carpet a once over, the blond shot Squall a cross, reproachful look before striding over to him and picking him up tritely, carefully avoiding his dirty hands. Wearily, he half-dragged the boy to the bathroom before stripping him down, dumping him into the empty tub. His caution in evading Squall's sticky fingers proved fruitless as they were immediately pulling at his hair and shirt as he held the boy down with one hand, switching the taps on with the other.

Once the tub was filled, he successfully managed to get Squall to settle down and scrubbed out the chocolate until the boy resorted to splashing the water. Specifically in his direction.

Washing Squall was a downright _challenge_, and he wondered how on earth he had managed to get the boy clean without incident the day before.

Cloud was getting worn out, and it showed. He wondered vaguely if the boy was getting a kick out of all this, but merely shrugged away the thought, setting back to work and eventually getting Squall clean even if it meant getting himself thoroughly drenched.

Squall _was_ getting a huge kick out of fighting with Cloud. Sure, he had gotten into a few full-fledged brawls with the blond back when he was about the same size as the teenager, but the satisfaction he was getting out of these uncanny and childish tussles was unmatched. In fact, he felt almost gleeful as he pulled at Cloud's hair and swiped at him, giving him a few scratches, knowing that he wouldn't get hit back.

As a form of revenge, Cloud dunked the boy under the water briefly and proceeded to shampoo his hair, to which the boy started struggling and whining for him to stop. Smugly, Cloud ignored his pleas and kept on with the washing as Squall sulked, stubbornly refusing to let the blond do anything else. A little frustrated by Squall's obstinacy, Cloud managed to finally finish with the boy and wrapped him with a towel as he drained the water in the tub, wiping him dry and changing him into a pair of pyjamas Yuffie had brought earlier with much difficulty and a few more scratches.

At last, after tucking Squall in for bed, he had to face a final, sleepy struggle from the boy as he managed to sneak in a peck on the forehead and lulled him to sleep, quietly making his way back to the living room to clean up the mess left behind.

It had taken Cloud a good hour and a half to get the hot chocolate out from the carpet and the glass of the coffee table back to its original brilliance. After he had dumped the wash rag into the sink, he had forced himself to the bathroom to wash out the chocolate from his hair and to take a long shower. Laundry followed soon after, and before he was about ready to collapse in bed by Squall, he received another phone call, and that had forced him to take out the documents he had been working on earlier and review them.

As he toiled late into the night, he had taken a quick break and was thinking about the extra bed he would have to pull out soon for Squall. Cloud mused to himself, wondering if he had acted as Squall did when he himself was a child.

Having a kid in the house was refreshing. Even though it meant a little extra work for him, and a whole lot of attitude from Squall, Cloud felt a little less lonely in the house. His mother worked late night shifts and was always resting up in the morning for her second job at the public library. Cloud himself held some part time jobs to earn some extra money on the side in order to help pay off their debts. Otherwise, he was always usually at home, balancing out the family accounts and finishing up his own chores.

Cloud didn't have time to hang out with friends like his other classmates did. Most of the socializing he did was at school or at Cid's garage, where he worked. Even then, he had to quit the swim team to help his mum out, and that action cost him quite a few friendships, seeing as his resigning led the team to lose the last competition he was to participate in. They had been disappointed in him, and even the teachers who usually had him in their favour spoke to him less. His classmates were trying their hardest not to be bitter about his indifference with the loss their school faced, though the rest of the swim team had no diffidence in displaying their displeasure in him.

But he didn't have the time to care about what others thought of him. To Cloud, his mother, the only family he had left, was most important. He wanted to protect his mother, keep her safe and happy. Everything he did, it was for that sake, for her sake. And now that Squall was apart of his family, his name had joined that list of people he wished to protect, no matter how much trouble Squall was planning on giving him.

And that was all that mattered.

**xxx**

Squall awoke with a jolt.

His eyes were wide open, adjusting to the darkness of the room as he stared up at the whitewash ceiling, feeling sweat drench his clothes as he felt his chest tighten, slowly evening out his breaths and inhaling deeply. He closed his eyes, trying to resume his sleep, but an indescribable trepidation was garrotting him, making it feel as though he had a blade at his neck and a pillow over his face, smothering him.

Squall felt himself shake a little, and a quiet whimper escaped his lips, causing a hand to shoot up and clamp over his mouth. He gripped at the blanket, squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to ignore the unsettling feeling that was haunting him as the long shadows cast throughout the room loomed eerily, accompanied by the grave creaks that sounded now and again.

He wasn't scared. He wasn't scared. This was all in his head. He had never been scared before, and he wasn't going to start now.

Curse this damn body.

This child he was forced to pretend to be, this body that was caging him, it was starting to affect his mind. It was bad enough that Squall had to comply with the juvenile fodder this body demanded, and it was equally as undermining to have to take intermittent naps throughout the day simply because this body had the irregular energy levels of a _child_, but in no way whatsoever was he going to let this inexperienced body's instinct take over and make him hide under the covers in hopes that whatever was residing underneath the bed wouldn't come out and eat him.

_'Think,' _he told himself. _'Think; there's nothing there. This is all in your head. This is merely insomnia. You're tired – your body _feels_ tired. You need to drink something – something warm and sleep-inducing.' _

That did the trick.

Immediately, the boy kicked the covers off and climbed off the bed, hurriedly making his way out of the creepily dark room and tiptoeing down the corridor, though the reason behind his tiptoeing, he never knew. As he started towards the kitchen, he noticed that the lights inside were still on, there being some muffled noises. Curious, Squall sneaked towards the doorway that linked the living room and the kitchen and peeked inside.

Cloud was slumped over the dining table, resting his head on his folded arms that had numerous papers sticking out from underneath them. He was breathing softly, and his eyes were fluttering every now and then. A sheet or two of those papers had fallen to the ground and were resting by his feet, displaying how his neat handwriting had gradually become languorously illegible before striking towards the right, running off the paper in what had probably been a drowsy stupor.

Squall found himself pausing.

Cloud looked rather cherubic when he was asleep; less like the demon he often made himself out to be on a regular basis. His lips were slightly parted, revealing a hint of pearly white teeth, and his untrimmed, blond spikes were in his eyes, irritating him a little. His head was inclined to one side, so his cheeks had flattened and become slightly puffed up against his face, causing his mouth to open a tad more.

Yes, he certainly looked less like that idiot who paraded around school.

Maybe it was because his piercing blue eyes couldn't be seen. They constantly held anger and arrogance whenever he looked into them. They were accusing and smouldering, as though they could read the very fabrics interweaving your heart and your mind. It could also possibly be due to the absence of the frown that often marred his face. His eyebrows were no longer furrowed, either, and this caused the hard lines that were usually seen on his face to disappear. He looked unguarded, almost angelic.

It was rather nice to see Cloud this vulnerable.

It had taken him a while, but it was then did he notice a petite figure leaning over the teenager. The woman, if her long, blonde braids and bosom were anything to go by, had her hands resting on Cloud's shoulders, squeezing affectionately, her lips near his ears, whispering soothing murmurs for him to wake up.

Cloud had groaned softly at first, slurring something unintelligible before the woman smiled and shook him lightly.

She was very beautiful, Squall found himself thinking. She had kind, green eyes that were gentle and deep. Her skin was white, a stark contrast of how tan Cloud was, and her lips were upturned sweetly, pressed together in a tender smile. Her face was delicate and oval-shaped, and Squall wondered how Cloud's messily spiky hairstyle that made him look more pronounced as a moron could make this woman look so. . . pleasant. Her blonde tresses were certainly much longer than the teenager's, and they had been loosely tied together in a large braid that had been pulled to the left, allowed to hang from her shoulder down her front. She was dressed in a long, black overcoat that was covering what seemed like a nurse's uniform.

Squall heard her whisper Cloud's name, giving his nose a playful pinch before rubbing his back in coaxing circles, trying to get him to stir. He had grunted, but resumed his rest, causing his mother to smile at his demeanour before she stood up straight wistfully at his hopelessness, catching a glance of the boy who was peeking at her from the doorway.

Squall hadn't quite expected being found by the woman, but he himself felt curious as she approached him quietly, stopping before him and squatting down so that they were at eye level.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was Cloud's mum, if he had even harboured skepticism prior to this unprecedented exchange. She looked tired, though, but still that sweet smile on her face didn't falter, and her eyes seemed to twinkle with delight as she looked at the young boy.

"Hey there," she said softly. "Are you Squall?"

Squall felt a little out of place as he dumbly nodded to her question. Her smile widened at that, and she asked kindly, "Can't sleep?"

He nodded again, eyeing Cloud's mother, completely enamoured.

She stood up, offering a hand for him to take – which he had – and she led him towards the kitchen, picking him up gently and pulling out a chair for him to sit on. He was sitting to Cloud's left, thereby allowing him closer scrutiny of the teenager if he so wished, but his eyes were glued to the woman as she approached the stove and poured some milk into a pot.

She simply beguiled him. He had never had a mother before, never had a mother to dote on him or tend to him. As she allowed the milk to boil, she had walked to him and smiled again in something that made him feel reassured, made him even enjoy it when she ran her fingers through his hair affectionately.

Squall. . . liked it.

He didn't like that constrained feeling of being fussed over that Yuffie and Aerith constantly made him feel, neither did he enjoy the way his teachers would callously treat him and make him feel like a hat stand. This kind of mothering. . . he liked it. It felt nice, like someone really cared for him and. . . genuinely. . . loved. . . him.

It was like how Cloud treated him, but even though he knew it was completely different, that strange feeling was still there, though he casually waved it away.

Perhaps this was what it was like to have a mother.

"Drink this and you'll be able to sleep better," she told him smilingly as he looked up at her with his big eyes. He had never taken his eyes off of her, and she found herself feeling flattered as she tapped his nose – much in the way Cloud usually did – and pushed a glass of warm milk towards him.

He tentatively received the glass with both hands, eyeing it briefly before bringing it to his lips and draining the contents. A nice, bubbling sensation slid smoothly down his throat and into his stomach, spreading all he way to the tip of his toes as a serene and lazy feeling slowly overcame him.

Cloud's mother had already returned to her son's side, rubbing his back and gently getting him to rouse.

Cloud did, eventually, and as he stood up drowsily, he stared at her with half-lidded eyes, trying to make his mind process the image before him. After a while, it seemed he realized that he was not dreaming, and murmured a sleepy, "Hi, Mum," as he rubbed his eyes.

"Go to bed, Cloud. We can work on the bills tomorrow, okay? You need rest now," she said soothingly, patting his back and giving him a gentle push in the direction of his room. He trudged off blindly, legs heavy and back slouched.

His mother sat beside Squall, looking at him tenderly as he finished his drink, wiping away the milk moustache that was left behind with a tissue before setting the glass in the sink and picking him up, bouncing him briefly before switching off the lights and walking back to his room. She continued to rock him to sleep, and Squall found that the milk and the warmth that was engulfing him lulling him to rest.

She set him on the bed, pulling up the blankets and tucking him in. She sat by him, stroking his forehead and pushing his hair out of his eyes as she sang a soft lullaby, waiting until he finally dozed off before giving him a light peck on the nose and closing the door quietly behind her.

Squall now somehow understood why Cloud was so enraptured by his mother.

**xxx**

**A/N:** First of all, I must thank my darling wonderful bread/cockroach, Archy, for tirelessly copying and pasting each _Counterclockwise _chapter from my Livejournal, logging into my account, and then pasting it in - therein replacing the three asterisks that change each scene with a horizontal line. Without her, you read this not.

On that note, I think I was a little unclear on my mentioning my LJ.

**_THERE ARE A GAJILLION FICS ON THAT DAMN THING. GO TO MY LJ SO YOU CAN READ MORE._**

Cheerily, I shall mention that I am working on chapter 6 now.

Review, please. 8D


	3. Chapter 3

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 03  
Words: 7 723  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): CL (if you _want_), eventual LC  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
Rated: R

Summary: Leon and Cloud have never liked each other. They've been rivals ever since they first set eyes on each other. But when science experiments go out of hand, and one of them gets the worst imaginable effects change his physique, it's bound to be the most eventful summer for both of them yet.

Please to be enjoying this. :D

* * *

Squall woke up to the smell of pancakes.

He sat up, not feeling sleepy in the least, and swiftly threw the covers off, jumping down from the bed and running down the hallway to the source of the smell. In his mind, he had pictured an elfin woman with long, blonde hair and bright green eyes at the stove, wearing an apron and flipping a few golden pancakes. He had hoped that she would turn around and acknowledge him, maybe pat his head or give him an endearing smile.

This concept of 'mother' was one that he was enjoying thoroughly.

Before this, it had always been just him and his father. Their house didn't have that feminine touch to it, didn't have the womanly grace that made it seem warmer, made it seem welcome. As far as he knew, his mother had died during childbirth – giving birth to _him_ – and all he had was a happy-go-lucky father whose philosophy had taken a major turnaround after participating in law enforcement for far too long.

No, think happy thoughts. Happy. Pancakes. Mother. Breakfast. Happy.

A head of familiar spikes was, as expected, at the stove. Squall walked up to the taller person, clutching onto the cotton pyjama pants and burying his face in it. A hand was already at his head, gently patting it, and he felt himself smile slightly before nuzzling indulgently, the hand never leaving his head.

A slight hissing was heard, followed by a quiet 'poof' as Squall only imagined a pancake being flipped successfully.

"Cloud, making breakfast single-handedly with your eyes closed and a smile on your face while coddling little Squall, though impressive, is a little disturbing. And if you continually flip them with your eyes closed, they may land somewhere other than the frying pan, " a female voice spoke, amusement clear in her tone.

"Whatever you say, Mum," a sleepy, deeper, equally amused voice replied as he stroked the young boy's head.

Squall froze.

"My son is talented at useless things. I'm disappointed," Cloud's mother said with a laugh, to which the teen snorted. She walked over to them and gave both Cloud and – bending over – Squall a peck on the cheek before taking out some orange juice from the refrigerator.

Cloud removed his hand briefly from Squall's head in order to ladle some of the pancake batter into the frying pan, smoothening it out into a nearly perfect circle with a spatula before replacing his hand, patting Squall's head again and running his fingers through the boy's hair. He allowed the batter to sit and cook for a while and, with a swift flick of the wrist, flipped the pancake successfully.

With his eyes closed.

Squall looked on at his strange display of skill, unsure whether he should be worried or intrigued by Cloud's antics. As he pondered the nature of his, as his mother aptly put it, 'useless talent', Squall suddenly remembered that he was snuggling against Cloud Strife – and to his unbidden horror, actually _enjoying_ it – immediately relinquishing his grip of the blond's pyjama pants and giving him his requisite early morning glare.

Though his eyes were closed, Cloud seemed to have sensed it and chuckled, flipping the pancake once again before setting it in a plate with the rest.

"Squall, bring the pancakes over so we can eat breakfast," Cloud's mother said, setting the tableware. Cloud slid a final pancake onto the pile and picked up the plate, bending over and passing it to the boy. Shooting Cloud another glare, he accepted with both hands, walking over and setting it on the dining table on tiptoes before pulling out a chair and climbing onto it.

Cloud's mother was pouring all of them juice when the blond teenager walked over with some honey and maple syrup, sitting down beside Squall and giving his mother a kiss on the cheek. Before he piled some breakfast on his plate, his hand was already at the boy's forehead, checking for a temperature that would indicate a fever. When there was none to be had, he let out a satisfied noise, ruffling Squall's hair briefly and opening his eyes groggily.

"About time, too. Here I was, thinking that you'd slice off your fingers during breakfast," his mother jibed as Cloud speared some pancakes onto his plate. He merely grunted in reply, and as soon as he finished drowning his breakfast in syrup, his eyes had fluttered shut again, fork and knife automatically cutting up the pancakes and shoving them into his mouth.

"Forget I even mentioned it," she murmured amusedly, filling Squall's plate. "Syrup or honey, sweetie?"

He quietly pointed to the small bottle of maple syrup. She smiled at him and immediately poured some on his plate before setting it down in front of him.

Breakfast was a light-hearted affair, with Cloud's mother providing most of the chit chat. She talked about her day at work and of current issues, to which Cloud mostly grunted or responded with one-word replies. Squall was mostly silent, but would always answer her with a nod or a shake of the head when she asked him a question, or when she directed something towards him.

Squall thought it odd that such a wonderful, intelligent woman would be the mother to such an idiot. He listened on quietly as she talked about herself and described her workplace to the boy, asking him about how he was feeling intermittently, to which he would simply nod or shake his head in response.

Sometime in the course of breakfast, Cloud had managed to get good look at Squall and had already made a short list of things to get for him, seeing as he had mostly healed and just needed lots of fluids. Apart from that, he had different nutritional needs compared to Cloud and his mother, so a little shopping was in order.

"We're running out of milk, too, dear. I think I'll take a trip to the supermarket after breakfast. Is there anything you want? Anything else we might need?" she asked Cloud, taking a sip of her juice.

"Never mind, Mum. I can go grocery shopping later and bring Squall with me; you go ahead and get some rest. I can buy his favourite food and all that when I'm there, too," Cloud replied, setting down his cutlery and prying his eyes open. They were still half-lidded with a touch of drowsiness, but he managed a sleepy smile for his mother before a yawn overcame him.

"Goodness, any bigger and a fly will get in there," she responded, playfully tossing a napkin at Cloud. He grinned, allowing himself to get hit in the face. "Really, dear. I don't want you to go about doing all that until 3 in the morning. It isn't healthy. And I'm telling you, getting all those extra jobs are unnecessary. You should be focusing on your studies," she told him a little more seriously.

He immediately sobered up, giving her an equally stern look.

"I got a call the other day. They didn't receive the payment for the house. Said you took back some of the cash. Mum, tell me what you would do with all that money. Buy another car?"

She sighed slightly, rubbing her temples, aware of the impending argument.

"It's for you, Cloud. . ."

"I don't need to go to college. I'm fine where I am."

"You didn't apply for a scholarship, so of course I had to set aside some money for your studies. Goodness knows _why_ you turned away the application form when the teacher specifically recommended you."

"You're not listening to me, Mum. I am _not_ going to leave you by yourself. I'm staying here and I'm going to help you pay off all your debts."

"Sweetheart, you need an education. You can make something of yourself if you get a good education."

"It's not all about textbooks and studying, Mum! Now and today, it's all about money. And we _had_ the money to finish paying off our debts!"

"Cloud. You _are_ going to go to college. I'm seeing to it personally."

"I said I'm staying here with you-"

"And what? Live off of my meagre salary for the rest of your life? Cloud, as much as I appreciate how deeply you care for me, the money you earn from what odd jobs you're doing now won't be much help. If you go to college, excel – believe me, you're a good student, and you _will_ excel – get good grades, graduate and find a decent job, _that_ is when you can really help me pay off our debts. Specialists with real jobs and hard earned experience earn real money, and I learned that the hard way, Cloud."

"But college fees are-"

"We can talk about this later, but whatever you say will not change my mind, Cloud. Now, if you want to go out with little Squall, I suggest both of you get cleaned up quickly because I'm going to go back to bed and rest up for my next job, okay?"

Cloud remained silent, scowling as he nodded in response, conceding temporary defeat. His eyes held promise to bring up the subject again, when she was less exhausted. She gave him a weary smile and a quick peck on the cheek, walking over to Squall and kissing his forehead, tapping the boy's nose twice before retiring to her bedroom.

For the first time that day, Squall's eyes were not trained on Cloud's mother, but on Cloud, who was frowning deeply as he gathered the dishes to wash.

* * *

The hustle and bustle of towns and crowds had completely slipped his mind as indolent thoughts of a hot, lazy summer lying in bed filled his head. Staying hidden at Yuffie's and Cloud's had already made him forget how to act now that he was in a body of a 6 year old, and so when Squall had been ushered out of the house and into the supermarket with Cloud, he wasn't certain if he was supposed to take Cloud's hand to appear like a normal, healthy pre-pubescent child.

Too late, anyways.

Again with the hustle and bustle of crowds, another reason Squall had resorted to holding Cloud's hand was to avoid from getting separated from the teenager. For some odd reason, the feeling of getting left behind or abandoned was terrifying to him – probably due to the psychological instincts and fears of the childish body he possessed – so the only way to relieve himself of those fears was to keep himself from getting parted from Cloud. Now that he was four times smaller than he had initially been, it was rather easy to overlook him and he had already crashed face-first with a couple of knees. Squall absolutely refused to be carried – _not_ in a public place – but tagging along unaided proved to be hazardous – particularly to his nose.

Besides, it didn't seem like Cloud was going to let go of his hand anytime soon, anyway.

Once they entered the shopping mall, Squall had bumped into someone or fallen over approximately 8 times, and had lost Cloud at least thrice due to the holiday crowd. The boy had been fuming after the last person to have accidentally acquainted his knee with his face simply ran off through a kitchen's backdoor, and Cloud, amused, finally decided to take Squall's hand and pulled him a little closer so that they walked side by side.

For some inexplicable reason, Squall didn't pull away like he thought he should have. That unsettling feeling that had been unnerving him throughout the walk towards the supermarket finally calmed down, and holding hands with Cloud – someone bigger and more visible – made him feel secure and assured.

Cloud hadn't let go of him yet, and it didn't seem like he planned to anytime soon. The teenager had already grabbed a basket after stepping into the market, his shopping list lying at the bottom of it. They went from aisle to aisle, Cloud quietly picking up items and studying their prices before selecting what he wanted and placing them in the basket.

Meanwhile, like a deer caught in headlights, Squall's big eyes had widened, looking around the supermarket as though completely captivated by all the goods on sale. In truth, he was just reflecting on how large and foreign everything looked, but even then, it was a strangely exhilarating experience for his childish body.

He couldn't quite suppress the delight he felt when Cloud pointed out an item or two for him to choose, his body moving automatically and choosing this and that to which Cloud would always nod at before moving to put it in his basket.

Squall found himself thinking vaguely that he probably should be a little more disagreeable and start causing a ruckus to embarrass Cloud with, but his own common sense didn't allow it, and out of habit, he simply didn't. Besides, he actually found it a little enjoyable, food shopping with Cloud.

The boy watched assiduously as the blond teenager would take an item and scrutinize it, eyebrows furrowing together and lips pressed together to form a small pout as he read through the product label. Whenever he was having an inner debate about buying something and was internally weighing out the price against the quality, he would bite down on his lower lip and lower his head slightly, eyes staring straight ahead at nothing in particular, making him appear to be brooding.

In a way, it was amusing, and Squall was privately having fun as he observed how idiotically adorable Strife could look when he was acting like a housewife.

Housewife. Cloud. Apron. Cooking. Pancakes.

Squall made a face, remembering the fluke he had made earlier that day, unaware that Cloud had taken that moment to look to him for yet another decision in the buying of some food product and had misinterpreted his expression for one of frustration that children usually felt when they were bored or not given the attention they wanted.

Recalling the slight enmity Squall seemed to harbour for him even if he had toned down by a little that day, Cloud decided that it was probably the former that the boy was experiencing. Exhaling smoothly, Cloud put the bottle of juice back into the rack and squatted down so that he was at eye level with Squall, who noticed his presence and had immediately put on a glower, pulling his hand out of Cloud's gentle grip and crossing his arms.

"All right, tiger. Go on, pick out whatever you want. After this, we can go for some ice cream," Cloud told him quietly with a miniscule smile.

Squall merely blinked.

He could simply refuse, and that could make Cloud hassle him until he did buy something. That would just be trouble for himself, so Squall decided against it. If he agreed to pick something out, he could take a bunch of over-priced items and throw a tantrum if Cloud refused to buy whatever he chose. Apart from that, it seemed as though the blond was on a tight budget, so that was even more suitable.

So, option number 2 it was.

Wandering through a few aisles with Cloud tagging behind him almost languidly, Squall kept his eye out for something he'd like and would probably cost a lot. He strolled past the candy section, gaze fleetingly bypassing all the chocolates and sweet before landing squarely on a small plastic jar of red and blue gummi bears.

Okay, so he had to admit, it wasn't the most expensive of things, but even as a teenager, he had always had this inexplicable sweet tooth. And gummi bears and jellybeans had always been his study snacks. When was the last time he had munched on some gummi bears. . .?

Not since the beginning of the final two weeks of school. It's been _ages_.

He blinked himself out of his thoughts, quickly turning to gaze away. He had to focus; he was supposed to buy something tasty and expensive. Something like. . . something gourmet, he had to guess. He was never someone for gourmet food since he had always been a thrifty person, and he found anything pricy, more often than not, usually useless.

Regardless, he scanned a few of the higher shelves for more upscale candy. He came across some coffee flavoured things, and instantly made a face without realizing it. No, even if it were really expensive, it would be a complete waste if he didn't eat it.

His eyes landed square on a box of Belgian chocolates.

Squall always _had_ liked chocolates. . . And even though he never really was a fan of white chocolate – he liked dark or milk chocolate better – it still tasted pretty good. . . and was undoubtedly expensive. 35 dollars for 10 pieces? Were those truffles?

Shrugging, Squall stood on tiptoes to reach for the box and began to stretch his arm high above his head for the confection. The shelf was fixed very high up, and he felt as though his arm was going to separate from his shoulder just from reaching up for it. Just as he thought he was going to lose balance, a pair of strong arms had already swept him up in a swift movement, and he was being carried by Cloud.

Squall frowned, pushing the blond away roughly, but he was being blatantly ignored by the teenager. Cloud, without giving the box of chocolates a second glance, immediately picked up his shopping basket with his free hand and made his way to the cashier.

Squall kicked and pushed away all the way as Cloud set his things on the counter, but the older boy seemed completely unfazed by his actions. The person working the cash register looked on dolefully at the small boy that was squirming in Cloud's arms, but paid it no mind as the blond shifted his grip and scrambled around for his wallet as the total came up. Throwing a few notes down, he shoved the wallet back into his pocket before picking the grocery bags up in one hand and using both arms to carry Squall steadily.

Almost immediately, the boy's fidgets stopped as he was pressed up against Cloud's chest once again, this time no longer made to rest his head in a manner that would make him sleepy, but carried upright so much so he was actually sitting in Cloud's arms, gripping on the blond's shirt instinctively for support.

Put off, Squall took to narrowing his eyes at the teenager, lower lip jutting out slightly as his mouth twisted downwards into a frown. Cloud saw this and gave him a small, sincere smile, eyes twinkling with warmth and affection. It was something very nice and endearing to see, he had thought, and it had sort of made Squall want to smile back, but the boy immediately ducked his head, looking away and keeping steady that mask of annoyance that he had slipped on.

Easily, Cloud managed to balance the weight of the shopping bags hanging from his wrist and the boy carried in his arms as he ambled out of the mall easily, starting towards the parking lot before eventually reaching a sleek, cream coloured car lined with pure black material inside. He hoisted Squall a little higher with one arm as he unlocked the trunk, dropping the shopping bags inside. Shutting it firmly, he went to the passenger seat and buckled Squall in before tossing a smaller plastic bag to him, making his way to the driver's seat.

Curiously, the boy opened up to see what Cloud had bought as the teenager fastened his own seatbelt.

For a strange reason, Squall felt the irritation that had been plaguing him simmer down as those small hands clutched tightly onto the moderately sized glass jar Cloud had given him, filled to the brim with small and colourful packets of various gummi candy, completely different from what he had been eyeing earlier.

The boy remained silent throughout the rest of the car ride, feeling odd that a blush was welling up inside him.

* * *

"What flavour do you want?" Cloud asked, holding Squall close to him, but leaning over the cart slightly so that the boy could take a better look at the various tubs of ice cream inside. Squall felt his grip on Cloud's shirt tighten instinctively, body wanting to keep as close to the teenager as possible for fear of falling, as he peered down, eyes wandering around and landing on a cone the seller was holding.

Cloud was still pondering the flavour of ice cream he wanted when he glanced upwards, noticing that the boy had his eyes trained elsewhere and followed his gaze, lips quirking upwards slightly. He straightened up, Squall glancing at him enquiringly as Cloud automatically tightened his grip around the boy.

"A chocolate cone for him, and vanilla for me," he paused, looking into those big, grey eyes before letting out a soft sigh, a small smile curling at his lips. "Both double scoop."

For some strange reason, Squall found that this new ability he had developed – not unlike Sora's – to somehow be able to manipulate other's to cave into his whims didn't seem as condescending as he had initially thought it would. In fact, he had to say that he felt downright gleeful that Cloud was simply giving in because Squall had widened his eyes and, in a moment off guard, had given him a ruffled, unguarded, childlike expression.

He felt a little upset when Cloud finally lowered him to the ground, almost tempted to raise his arms to the blond and to put on that previous expression so that he would be carried once again, but Cloud instead pressed into his hand an ice cream cone, ruffling his short, brown hair before passing the seller a note.

Cloud took Squall's free hand gently, leading them to a little shade under a large rain tree and sat down cross-legged, pulling the boy down so that the young brunet was seated in on top of his legs, leaning back against Cloud's body.

Squall felt a little awkward at first, unsure of what to do, but when he noticed a couple other children seated on older people, namely their older sisters or on the lap of their fathers eating their own confections, Squall decided to squirm about until he felt comfortable and resigned himself to his ice cream cone. He licked away the melted chocolate that was beginning to dribble down the side of the wafer tentatively, flicking out his tongue almost timidly.

For some strange reason, Squall was in an unfathomably good mood. He didn't feel even the slightest bit of antagonism when Cloud curled his free hand around the boy's stomach in an almost protective manner, quietly eating his own ice cream as those studious blue eyes wandered around aimlessly, catching sight of other kids who were chasing each other around and couples who were taking slow strolls by the lake of the park.

Gradually, Squall eased, and soon enough he had leaned back against the teenager completely, turning Cloud into a comfortable armchair for himself. Cloud himself had his chin resting atop Squall's head once he finished eating his own cone. The sun had dimmed in intensity as the clock tower some distance away struck 3, Cloud humming a quiet tune as he drummed his fingers on his knee.

It was a rather lazy day and Squall felt the onslaughts of a nap nudging him, though the sugar he had just consumed was keeping him awake. He took to copying Cloud, simply watching as people passed by, wasting away the minutes as he felt himself nestle in Cloud's arms.

There was a soft chuckle from above him and he took to leaning his head back into Cloud's chest, glancing upwards at the teenager who had produced a clean handkerchief and was busy wiping away the remnants of the ice cream he ate from around his mouth. He felt a little embarrassment pick at him as he realized that he had eaten messily, as a child would, and had allowed Cloud Strife to wipe his mouth.

Then again, he was relaxing on top of the guy, so not much could be argued for that point. Besides, Cloud was pretty comfortable, and unbearably gentle. Was he always this tender around children? Because as far as Squall could tell, if he had seen this part of Cloud when they were still in school, he would have sworn that this blond was in no way the obnoxious Cloud Strife who paraded around the school like the moron he was.

Must be children, Squall concluded. Cloud was a sucker for children, as Yuffie said.

She was right.

A ringing cell phone brought both of them out of their thoughts as Cloud answered it, his voice as quiet as it usually was, answering in grunts and single-worded sentences. There was a brief nod on his behalf before Cloud hung up, pocketing the phone and getting to his feet, carrying Squall in the process.

"We're going to my workplace for a bit," he told Squall, pressing the boy flat against his chest as he patted the boy's back a little, walking towards his car.

"My boss has the pottiest mouth known to mankind, so make sure you don't repeat anything he says, got it?"

Amused, Squall simply nodded, wondering what on earth might come out of meeting Cid as a 6 year old.

* * *

Something was seriously wrong.

The whole picture was simply fucked up.

Squall was still having trouble digesting what had happened in the past few minutes, instead taking to sipping his tea quietly, almost timidly as he tucked his legs together, glancing around a little nervously.

He was sitting on Cid's lap.

Having goddamn _tea_ with the old man.

The chair and table were both a little low, so only the upper part of Squall's chest was visible as a plate of fat steamed buns sat on the rough wooden surface, a pot of green tea sitting by the plate as a few thick ceramic mugs surrounded it.

Now, sitting on Cid Highwind's lap was, to be completely honest, very intimidating, especially when he was about 4 times your size and was very loud and boisterous, full-blown laughter more of barks than bursts of hilarity. He had kindly chucked the cigarette he had been smoking out the window when Cloud had strolled into the workshop with Squall, plastering the affectionate grin of an old man who hadn't seen his grandkids in a few decades on his face as he welcomed the pair, eyes trained notably on Squall.

Cloud was tinkering away with a few gadgets in the workshop itself while Squall had somehow ended up on the lap of a middle aged Cid Highwind, eating steamed buns and drinking green tea with the man as he babbled about himself and the little brats he used to take care of when he had been younger.

The stories were interesting, they really were, but Squall was a little busy trying to figure out how exactly Cid had managed to get the boy on his lap without getting a kick where the sun don't shine, or at least a scratch or two.

Cloud _had_ mentioned that Cid would be a little rough and loud, but. . .

Squall had spent about an hour and a half in Cid's garage and was _still_ disoriented.

"So, kid! How's Spike there been treating you, eh?"

Squall paused, tilting his head back to look up at the older man.

"Yeah, I'm talking to ya, kiddo," he grinned down at the boy, ruffling his hair in a fond manner as Squall clutched tighter to his mug, afraid that it might slip from his fingers. Squall merely blinked up at the man, eyebrows knitting together slightly as he pressed his lips together in a firm line.

"Don't scare Squall, Cid. It looks like you're gonna bite his head off or something," Cloud jibed good naturedly in that monotone of his beyond the comfort of the clean shop and in the bowels of the dirty garage, though the amusement clearly tinged his voice. Cid snorted loudly, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb before he looked down once again at Squall and gave him a wide grin.

"Nah, you can't be scared of ole' Uncle Cid now, can ya?"

"More like gramps," Cloud snorted.

"You want a job the next time you walk by here, Strife?" he asked the teen hoarsely, whipping his head towards the entrance of the garage, expression contorted into one that was less than pleased. There was a muffled reply, but the message was clear and Cid leaned back in his chair smugly.

"Heh, at least that brat knows his place. Don't seem none too sharp, Spike, but he's one nice cookie, even tho' he won't never let you get away sayin' that. Had a bunch of people offering jobs to him since he's a hard worker, but the chump chooses to come to ole' Cid. Great kid, I tell ya. Wanted to keep me company, he did," Cid explained with a grin, bouncing the small boy on his lap with his knee mindlessly.

The action was, strangely enough, actually a little soothing for Squall, who had pressed the mug he held firmly against his stomach so that it wouldn't fall over. Cid reached over for a steamed bun, tearing at the soft bread and splitting it in half. He blew both pieces very slightly and was careful to keep them at a slight distance. Once they had cooled down a little, he passed the bigger piece to the boy and brought the other to his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

Gauchely, Squall blew on the bun a little, too, looking up from the piece of bread he had been given and peering to the side, noticing Cloud appear at the doorway and giving the boy a pointed look. Cloud gestured to Cid with his eyes, jerking his head towards the man slightly before he leaned against the doorway, waiting patiently for the young brunet to act.

Hesitant at first, Squall slowly began to nibble on the bun, munching it gladly after tasting the sweet flavour of the red bean filling, leaning back against the older man and relaxing, noticing that the aged blond had brightened a little at that gesture of familiarity. The mechanic began to jabber again, hands making wild gestures in the air to reinforce whatever point he had been making, to which Squall would nod to reaffirm that he was listening. Cid's stories really were interesting, as the man had been apart of the war in Wutai, and even before that, an aeronautical engineer.

Squall never would have guessed that Cid would have been that open and warm with children – never even guessed that he had had such a colourful and exciting history – and somehow felt the infectious passion the aged man possessed spreading to him. His eyes widened when Cid talked about a plane crash he had in the mountains a few decades back that made him develop his perpetual limp, completely immersed as Cid talked about the animals that inspired various machines and vehicles he had helped invent and shook his head of soft brown hair keenly when Cid asked if he had ever ridden in a private airship before, nodding when he had been asked if he wanted to.

Squall was certain that, though his interest had been greatly instigated, he wouldn't have acted the way he did under normal circumstances. Considering the fact that turning into a 6 year old was by no means normal, he allowed the childish excitement that his body was feeling to carry on, deciding against repressing it since Cid was a pretty good guy, and it was apparent that he missed having a kid around.

Cid Highwind was the last person he expected to like children. He and Yuffie were constantly picking on each other, and he had this habit of hollering down the street at a handful of kids who had this tendency to play football near his workshop.

But what puzzled Squall the most was the fact that Cloud had taken it upon himself to make Squall meet Cid. There was no real reason to do so, and he had even overheard Cloud telling his boss that Squall liked this and didn't like that, mentioning that he preferred listening to other people talk because he didn't like speaking. He had even quipped that Squall would probably like to drink something warm since they had just had some ice cream and that he was recovering from the flu.

Squall felt sincere as he waved goodbye to the aged man a few hours later, promising to come again so that he could hear more of the mechanic's stories and have some tea with him.

It had been a surprise to him when Cloud returned to the shop, clean as a whistle. The blond had shed his dirty jumpsuit and had apparently taken a shower, sporting a different set of clothes, a duffel bag hanging limply in his grip. Squall wondered vaguely when Cloud had brought the bag, since he had carried Squall with both arms on the way in. He was pretty sure the jumpsuit he had used during work was hanging in Cid's garage, but as Cloud took his hand in a gentle, but firm grip and led him to the car, he simply decided not to think about it.

"Cid's a nice guy, isn't he?"

Squall didn't reply, looking up at the teenager curiously.

"He and his wife had a miscarriage before they divorced, and as much as he appears to be an old grouch bag, he really does like little kids. Unfortunately, he tends to scare them all off," Cloud said with a very soft chuckle, opening the car door for the boy.

That was certainly unexpected. Cid was a moody old man that most of the younger generation relatively kept their distance from. He yelled and shouted at people or animals that were upsetting his work or making too much noise, and the only people who seemed to tolerate him were those miniscule few who either worked for him, or some of the much older residents of town. The parents all kept away from his workshop unless it was an absolute emergency because of his colourful language and his gruff demeanour.

As Squall felt the green tea he had drunk earlier washing away his cognisance and lulling him to sleep, he vaguely registered the snap of the seatbelt buckle and the gentle ruffling of his hair before his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

Squall had spent an hour or so in the study with the few novels he had managed to pick off the higher shelves after he had woken up from his nap. However, even though he usually enjoyed the solitude of the library, he felt a little unsettled as shadows from the darkened sky began to loom into the spacious room.

Squall was far too short to reach the light switch that was situated by the doorway, and he simply hadn't the mood to pull a chair out to climb on in order to resume his reading with better light. Therefore, he simply picked up one of the books he had been reading and walked out into the corridor and towards the living room, the paperback tucked under his arm as he caught a glimpse of Cloud's mother hanging up the house phone and picking up a black briefcase that had been leaning against the wall.

He entered the room and was seen by the woman, Cloud's mother giving him a warm smile as she bent over to give him a quick peck on the forehead before shouting out a farewell to her son and exiting the house tritely.

Cloud jogged out of the kitchen in hopes to see his mother off but his eyes instead landed on the young brunet, still dishevelled from his earlier nap. With a small grin, the blond squatted down so that he was at eye level with the boy, eyes wandering to the book in his grip.

They exchanged a quiet glance before Cloud understood what the boy was demanding of him. He stood up slowly, brushing some imaginary dust off his knees before taking Squall's free hand in his and walking with the boy towards the study. He flicked the light switch on easily and leaned against the entryway languidly as Squall re-entered the room, flopping down in a corner and leaning against a wall, bring his knees up and resting the book against his raised thighs.

Diffidently, the blond teenager took to looking around the study, apparently having not been in the room properly for a long time already. He stepped in slowly, approaching the shelves and letting his fingers lightly run across the slightly dusty spines, walking past and scanning the titles briefly as nostalgia claimed him. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed, quick flashes of memories running through his mind as he recalled his father, and his father's warmth, and his father's faded grin, and how much happier he had been in the very same room, far too long ago.

Once his eyes had opened again, his gaze landed on a few thick, leather bound books that had been squeezed together on a lower shelf. They were very familiar, and so Cloud took to pulling two out of their place, hefting them as he scanned the cover before his eyes brightened in recognition.

He caught a glimpse of Squall from the corner of his eyes and smirked, averting his gaze to the photo albums he held before sidling down by the boy, seating himself comfortably as he leaned against that small body a little, dropping the books onto his lap and opening them up.

When the brunet felt the pressure of an uncomfortable elbow that had been jutting out and nudging him in the stomach, he had looked up and scowled at the teenager, about to shove him away before Cloud raised his bothersome arm, draping it loosely around the boy's figure and pulling him a little closer before he pointed out to a black and white photo in the album.

"This is my mum when she was still in school," Cloud said softly, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips.

Squall couldn't help but stare at the picture, gaze switching between the pretty blonde girl in the photograph and Cloud himself in comparison. It was hard to believe that they were two different people because this young Mrs. Strife was impossible to tell apart from her son. Their spiky hair, their faces, their similarly upturned mouths – though hers was more out of shyness than Cloud's fleeting amusement – down to the curve of their noses; they were indistinguishable from one another.

It was then that Squall began to notice how delicately fragile Cloud's features really were. All this while, he had simply waved it away as the teenager being a girlish-looking homebody, but after taking a closer look at both Cloud and this photograph, he could see clearly that Cloud had a most aristocratic visage, face attractively shaped and handsome cheekbones well defined, though not too prominently so.

In all truths, Cloud was actually very fair, but the immense amount of time he spent under the sun while he was still in the swim team had made his skin take on a fetching tanned colour – nothing too much, like Tidus' dark brown skin, but simply a nice and healthy shade.

"My mum wanted to be a doctor so that she could help people, so she moved to one of the medical universities to the west. She graduated and all, but was accepted as a nurse for a local hospital. The hospital helped the army a lot, and she met my dad when she was still a student. They dated a lot, and they had that golden couple thing going and all."

Cloud flipped a page, eyes lingering over a few notable photographs before he pointed out a picture that had a well-built and good-looking man on it, leaning against an iron fence, wearing what seemed like an army uniform. It was also black and white in colour, the photo already beginning to yellow from age.

"This is my dad. He used to serve in the army, you know?"

Squall felt himself pause, suddenly realizing that he had had a hand resting on Cloud's arm, leaning over to take a better look of the pictures as he absentmindedly rested against the blond. Cloud didn't seem to have minded, and Squall decided to simply look up at the blond in enquiry.

He hadn't seen Cloud's father before. In fact, he hadn't even heard Cloud ever mention him. All this while, he had ever only uttered this and that about his mother, but never his father. If Cloud noted that his dad had been in the army – with a past tense – Squall could only conclude that he was probably deceased.

"You're probably wondering where he is, huh?"

Squall cocked his head to the side, eyes wide and hair ruffled.

Cloud smiled at that image, and Squall couldn't help the pleasant twitch his lips felt at such a sight.

"We used to live in Wutai," Cloud explained softly, hand resting in Squall's hair and stroking gently. "He was a brave soldier and fought with the rest of the army when war broke out there." He glanced at the boy from the corner of his eyes. "You know Yuffie?"

Squall nodded.

"We grew up together in Wutai. I had to take care of her a lot since Mum was a nurse and Yuffie's parents were the leaders of Wutai."

Unsure of what to make of this new revelation, Squall nodded again, if not a little hesitantly this time.

"The war was really bad over there," Cloud continued quietly, eyes trained on the photograph once again, flipping the page over and revealing more pictures of his parents – this time in colour – in front of a large house in a region that looked distinctly like the Western Continent. "We had to move out of Wutai or we'd get involved in the local rebelling. We managed to, but just without my dad."

Cloud flipped the page over abruptly, photos of a baby Yuffie wrapped in a bundle held carefully in a very young Cloud's arms, a big, idiotic grin lighting up his face brightly, eyes clearly twinkling even through the photograph itself. Cloud had looked so happy then, Squall found himself thinking.

"He went off to guard duty one day, but he just didn't come back," Cloud said, exhaling a little huffily, eyes lingering on a photo of him and Yuffie on a backyard swing. He noticed the deep gaze Squall had trained on him and gave the boy a small smile, ruffling his hair slightly.

"He didn't die or anything," Cloud said good-naturedly, giving Squall's nose a tap. "He just went off and didn't come back. Nobody knows where he is, and Mum was really, really sad that he went missing. Only a couple years back, she decided to move on and make a little memorial for him, so we have a sort of tombstone on an empty plot of land at the local cemetery."

The look Squall was giving Cloud was a truly pathetic sight, and the teenager had to resist the urge to just hug the boy and say that everything was fine. Squall himself felt completely hopeless after hearing that disclosure, felt that that was the worst story he had ever heard, and that Cloud's young mother shouldn't have been put through all of that, especially when she was surviving on her own with an infant.

From the pictures of when they were moving, Squall could only guess that Cloud had been 7 or 8 when his father disappeared. Coupled with the debts they must have amassed through the years, Cloud's overly defensive demeanour and the completely worn down expressions both mother and child constantly wore day in and day out, Squall found that he was questioning his motives for bullying the blond prior to this.

Cloud had been nothing of the monster he had expected. He was nothing of the useless, unbearable and arrogant person _Leon_ had known. This Cloud that Squall had gotten to understand was warmer, gentler, kinder than the prick that was constantly baiting him to a fight. He even understood that Cid Highwind, the town's resident grumpy old fart, was actually a lonely guy who wanted some company, and maybe a few kids to play with because he couldn't have any of his own.

Cloud really was nothing like the Cloud he had known.

Why _was_ this Cloud so distrustful and cynical? Was it because he had lost his father all those years ago? Was it because of all the work he had forced upon himself so that he wouldn't be idle, so that he wouldn't deem himself useless to his mother? From what Squall could see, it seemed as though Cloud was blaming himself for something, but he just could not understand what.

Squall didn't fight when Cloud picked him up and settled him on the teenager's legs, arms enveloping him in something reminiscent of an embrace as he set the album on the boy's lap. They flipped through the rest of the album together with Cloud quietly explaining this or that photograph, Squall leaning back in the warmth that had begun to engulf him, finding that he wanted to know more about Cloud, wanted to find out what had happened in his past and his childhood stories, and about what interested him and what he did for fun. He found himself curling up slightly, a small yawn slipping out as Cloud wrapped a protective arm around his waist, burying his face in his soft brown hair and leaning his chin gently against his head.

Squall wanted to understand _this_ Cloud.

* * *

**A/N:** Wewt. Hey again. Nothing much to note, just... review please? 8D 


	4. Chapter 4

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 04  
Words: 6 550  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): Cloud x Leon (if you _want_), eventual Leon x Cloud  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
Rated: R

* * *

Squall was stretching his arms, straining his fingers as he balanced precariously on tiptoes. 

He let out a slight groan at the tension gathering at his shoulder as he squeezed his eyes shut, stretching a little higher, holding in his breath. Frustrated, Squall gave up and decided to give a slight jump, but that didn't work. A fire of determination was blazing in his eyes and he gave the object a pointed glare before bracing himself and hopping on one foot, arm splayed up wildly above him.

His fingers successfully hooked the top of the spine of the book.

With a resounding 'thud', Squall tumbled to the floor with two relatively large hardcover books, a small cloud of dust fogging the air fleetingly before dissipating. He blinked the dust out of his eyes, coughing lightly before triumphantly picking both books up, getting to his feet. Cloud had carefully avoided these photo albums the night before, and he was curious to see what the books contained.

Squall brushed the dirt off, shaking some of it out of his hair before walking to his corner and settling down. It was sometime earlier in the morning, and the study was brightly lit, curtains pulled back and revealing a slightly cloudy day.

Squall flipped the album open, eyes immediately landing on a blushing kid with spiky blond hair clutching onto the straps of his backpack, meekly peering at the camera. Squall couldn't help but faintly smile slightly at the picture, scanning the photograph before his eyes landed on another. Cloud was clutching onto his mother's skirt, hiding behind her. They appeared to be standing in front of a school, what with the other children who were running into the building.

On the next page was Cloud and Yuffie, eating some cakes. Cloud was leaning over, wiping away the crumbs surrounding the young girl's mouth with a tissue paper. A small smile graced his lips as he did so, eyes softened and kind. Yuffie was looking at him with an expression of reverence and adoration, apparently keeping still so that the older boy could clean her mouth in peace.

That image was so familiar, Squall having experienced Cloud's affectionate smiles and gentle touches many times already in the course of the past few days. Cloud must have liked children from a young age, he concluded, flipping the page. There were a lot of photographs of this young Cloud, and from one that had the caption '7th Birthday' that contained a grinning blond boy with lots of cake and icing messily coating his lips and cheeks, he could easily guess that these were from when he lived in Wutai.

Cloud looked so _happy_ in these photos. Squall found that the need to understand what had transpired that managed to spark such a significant change in Cloud strengthen, and he resolutely turned the pages. He accidentally let out a snort when he came across a Cloud looking reproachfully up at the camera, arms crossed and cheeks puffed childishly, lower lip jutting out in a cute pout. Squall bit down on his lip, afraid that he would start giggling at the image. It really was an _adorable_ picture, and so help him, he had never used that word to describe anything before.

At that moment, something indescribable struck him, and he wasn't very sure if he should act on that idea playing in his mind. The simple urge to do it, however, was stronger than the adult-like cynicism he possessed and he caved in after a bout of inner conflict.

Eyeing the study, he made sure that no one else was in the room – not like anyone else _would_ be – before he did something completely unthinkable, something so uncharacteristic he was sure the potion was messing with his brain.

He copied the pout.

Squall let out a small chortle, but quickly silenced himself, trying to perfect the expression that seemed to make those older than him obey his every beck and call. From the picture, it seemed that he had to furrow his eyebrows to let out some semblance of distaste, eyes narrowed but still round and big. It reminded him of a puppy for some odd reason, but he simply shrugged that notion away, trying out the expression for a few more minutes before he was sure he had some grasp of perfection over it.

Squall decided that he had to try to copy some of these expressions if he wanted to come off as a normal child. Looking through Cloud's younger pictures really was pretty beneficial in the long run. There was this one photograph where Cloud was wide eyed, lips forming a tiny, thoughtful pout. Squall copied it, noticing that something wasn't very similar before finding the difference between the poses. He cocked his head to the side, and in the back of his mind, he wondered if this was supposed to make him look cluelessly cute or something.

Cute. Another word he never used on a normal basis.

Realizing the would-be unfavourable additions to his vocabulary, Squall immediately slipped on his usual frown, mentally chiding himself for getting carried away. Of course it was important to do a little research and try his best to appear as normal as a 6 year old could, but this was still unbearably awkward. Running a hand through his short hair, Squall realized that not once had he spoken throughout his time in Cloud's house – not even to Cloud's mother – and he wondered if that was normal. Didn't 6 year olds usually have endless amounts of energy and mouths that would never shut?

He shuddered slightly, the image of a young Yuffie running in circles around Leon's feet plaguing his mind and causing goosebumps to break out on his skin. He wasn't quite sure if that would be anything even remotely. . ._cute_. . . unlike what most people claimed. If he had to have a kid to take care of, he certainly wanted a good child who was quiet and well-behaved.

. . . And now he was thinking of having a kid. Something was wrong with him. Clearly, something was.

The next page caught him completely off guard. All the photographs adorning the album had been printed out in standard size, but this one photograph took up the entire page. Squall hadn't realized that he had held his breath at this picture, the muted colours of age melding perfectly with one another.

Cloud must have been so sick.

He was small and frail, a thin blanket pulled around his scrawny figure. He was wearing a loose singlet that had slipped off his shoulder slightly, exposing a petite shoulder. His skin colour was a ghostly pale, bandages scattered across his arm with one deftly stuck to an area to the right below his mouth where it looked a little swollen, small beads of perspiration clinging to his skin. Even his spikes looked more limp than usual. He was looking up at the camera lens with hazy, half-lidded eyes, fingers curling into the edges of the blanket and keeping it wrapped around his body.

A smooth smile – and even Squall could see that it had been an uncertain smile – was on his dry, chapped lips. At first glance, the only word that could have described the image was that of beauty, but when Squall gazed deeply into Cloud's eyes did he notice the swirl of emotions there.

Happiness and sadness, apprehension and anger, apathy and exhaustion; all of them mingling together.

Wasn't this Cloud only 7 years old? He looked so mature. . . so worn down; broken. Squall tore his eyes away from the photograph, feeling the desperation grip his heart and refuse to let go, quickly turning the pages. That smile haunted him, and never left his mind as he flipped through more photographs, Cloud's smile slipping and eventually vanishing from the pictures.

There was a great expanse of blank pages after a final photograph of Cloud's mother packing some clothes into boxes, and in the middle of the album, the pictures resumed their rightful positions in the book. They were mainly of the present neighbourhood, there being a photograph of Cloud's house, and another of a younger Yuffie holding onto his hand as he lead them across a street.

He wasn't smiling.

He had nothing on his face.

And strangely, even Yuffie, who had a very weak grin on her face, looked empty.

_This_ was the Cloud he knew. Emotionless and tired.

Squall was done.

He closed the book, eyeing the other photo album wearily before deciding that he would gather some strength to look through it perhaps later on in the evening, or even the following day. The boy picked up the heavy album, hefting it to the desk that stood quietly against a wall and slid it onto the smooth lacquered surface. Stretching, a small yawn slipping out before he smacked his lips together a few times, rubbing his eyes. He bent over to retrieve the novel he had been reading the previous day before Cloud had interrupted him.

It took some time, but he finally managed to find the page he had last stopped at, leaning against the wall and reading quietly to himself. He was completely immersed in the novel, but his thoughts often wandered to the photographs he had seen; that one of a sickly Cloud imprinted into his mind so clearly, he could count the number of wet beads that clung to his long eyelashes.

"Squall! You've got a visitor!"

Just like that, he was pulled away from his thoughts.

Curiously, Squall poked his head out of the study, the book he had been reading earmarked at a certain page with his index finger as he held it firmly in the grip of his small hand. Glancing out the window, he found that there was no car parked in the driveway, and that probably meant Cloud's mother had already left for work.

He walked lightly to the living room, Cloud in the doorway and chatting to whomever it was who had swung by before he caught a glimpse of the visitor. Squall felt his heart shrink, and was just about ready to dart out of the way and back to the study. But before he could, the newcomer had already seen him, grinning brightly from ear to ear.

"Squall! You're still so cute. . . You look so much better now!"

Oh god_dammit_.

He frowned at the girl, expression flat as she bounced up to him and wrapped her thin arms around his small figure, squeezing tight. She squealed as she found that the boy hadn't resisted her, like she had anticipated, and simply hugged him harder. Squall was sure that his lungs were going to get crushed soon, so he raised his gaze up at Cloud and put on that wide eyed, pouty expression of his that he had practiced earlier, jutting out his lower lip in an attempt to look imploring, pitiful, tortured, and, dare he say it, _cute_ all at once.

It worked.

"Yuffie," Cloud began, voice a little strained as he attempted to pry her off the boy. "I think Squall needs a little breathing space." Squall did a mental cheer, but whimpered when Yuffie's bone-crushing hug did not recede, hoping that that demoralizing plea would somehow add to the effect of desperation.

Yuffie squealed a little louder, and it took a bit more pulling on Cloud's behalf and a little struggling on Squall's before she was successfully unattached from the younger brunet. Squall had taken the opportunity to hide himself behind Cloud's legs, fingers curled into denim fabric that clung to Cloud's calf as he peeked out at Yuffie, glaring at her harshly whilst frowning.

All she saw was an incredibly adorable toddler with ruffled brown hair and big grey eyes set in a glower, lips twisted into an unbearably cute pout, staring up at her, put off. She giggled at the sight, moving forward to pinch his cheeks but was halted when she bumped her head into Cloud's stomach, Squall retreating further behind the blond teenager.

"Aww, come here you little teddy bear!" She giggled again, darting around Cloud and attempting to capture the boy in another numbing hug, Squall giving a startled jump at the abrupt lunge and quickly ran up to Cloud, tugging at his jeans and raising his arms up urgently, eyebrows furrowed together.

Taking the hint, Cloud chuckled softly, quickly sweeping Squall up into his arms.

The boy hoisted himself upwards, clinging close to the blond in an attempt to keep as far away from Yuffie as possible. He felt Cloud instinctively tighten his grip around the boy, as though protectively keeping Squall out of Yuffie's reach. The girl whined slightly, crossing her arms and pouting at Cloud in hopes that he would give in to her. Squall quickly realized that this was the expression Cloud had used from the pictures in the album and immediately put it on, gazing hopefully at Cloud.

The blond alternated glances warily between the two before sighing.

"I have a class today, Squall, and I can't bring you along. Yuffie's here to keep an eye on you, since you might get sick if you go back to her cat-filled house. You be good for her, got it?" Cloud told him calmly, to which Squall had cringed. One look at Cloud's staid face told the boy that he was dead serious, so he resigned to a nod, albeit an extremely reluctant one at that.

"Good," Cloud said, satisfied. "And Yuffie, don't antagonize him, got it? If you get kicked or anything, it would entirely be your fault," he reasoned pointedly.

She pursed her lips, conceding with a nod.

"So, this is a truce," Cloud announced with a soft grin, putting Squall down. "I need to feed you before I go off. You want anything special?"

Squall had already automatically latched onto his hand as Cloud walked over to the refrigerator, pointing out the foodstuffs he was willing to cook for Squall's first meal of the day. Somehow, they had silently agreed on some sausages and eggs, and so Cloud sat the boy down in one of the chairs at the dining table as he defrosted the sausages, pouring some juice for Squall.

Yuffie took a seat across the boy, resting her chin in both palms as she took to gazing, intrigued, at Squall while Cloud cooked. The boy was quietly watching the blond teenager whisk the eggs with a fork, legs swinging as they dangled off the edge of the chair, his hands gripping the sides of the cushion he sat on as he did so.

Silently, she noticed how soft his expression was, his lips curled up very faintly and face relaxed. His visage no longer held the hard lines that a usually stern face contained, this one very tender and, strange as it may be, affectionate. His grey eyes studiously followed Cloud's every line of movement, gaze deep and never wavering.

Yuffie wondered about what had happened between the pair in the past few days to have Squall so mellow and accepting. He was one who had everything his way, disliking the control others flourished over him and preferring, instead, to take charge. In the present, though, Squall lived in some sort of reciprocated harmony with Cloud, someone he claimed he hated beyond all normal means.

A little bit of her worried that it might have been the work of the potion he had accidentally consumed. Maybe he was starting to forget everything he once possessed as a teenager and was starting to live and act like a 6 year old because he believed he was one. It was a tiny part, but the worry was great enough to continually nag at her usually optimistic disposition. However, a greater part of her was squealing in delight at a job well done as Cloud had worked his charm and had gotten Squall to warm up to him. Squall was so cute! He was like a little angel; sweet, adorable and quiet.

Squall polished off the scrambled eggs, sausages and toast that Cloud has whipped up for him, Yuffie grinning widely when he put on those adorable googly eyes of his when he asked Cloud for more sausages. Cloud just couldn't resist that expression and had caved in, though not without good reason. Squall was tiny and was recuperating from the flu; he'd need some food to keep him healthy.

Brunch was a quiet affair, Yuffie content on watching as Cloud leaned over to wipe Squall's mouth with a tissue paper, ruffling his hair affectionately once he was done with his meal. The simple fact that Squall had allowed him to, and that he had actually offered a small _smile_ in response to those endearing actions floored her completely.

Yuffie was ecstatic.

Both of them had been shooed from the kitchen as Cloud finished some last minute chores, Yuffie and Squall resigned to waiting in the living room meanwhile. A 100 watt grin was stretched across Yuffie's face as Squall stretched on the couch, cagily glancing at the girl and immediately foreshadowing a disturbing premonition.

"What?" he asked warily.

Her grin widened.

"Well," she began, her patented tone for mischief surfacing in her voice, causing Squall to shrink in his seat slightly. "Someone was veeeeerryy clingy to _Cloud_ today, wasn't he? My, my, it seems that _someone_ might even _like_ Cloud! Aww, widdle Squall has a crush, he does!"

The first thing that crossed his features was a very flat expression, followed by a quirked eyebrow and a slight, "Humph," as Squall crossed his arms, turning away.

Yuffie's jaw dropped.

A few beats of silence passed.

And then Yuffie _squealed_.

Lunging forwards, she crushed him in another bruising hug, squealing, "CUTE!" repeatedly, going for his cheeks and _pulling_ until they turned red. He whined, struggling to get her off of him, trying his best to pry her deathly grip as he nudged himself away with much difficulty. He kicked and pulled, trying his best to escape her and finally managed to somehow slip out of her arms. He staggered backwards, accidentally pulling on the table runner splayed out on the coffee table as he stumbled, falling on his bottom with a yelp.

As he pulled the table runner with him, the various items that had been resting on it flew off with the momentum, crashing to the floor shortly after. Papers fanned out and sailed through the air, slowly landing around him with feathered, light motions. Pens cluttered the floors, rolling about uselessly as a few books slid down to the carpeted ground. But what had really gotten him to freeze completely, blanching, was the fact that an extremely heavy paperweight had barely nicked his nose and had fallen in between his thighs.

Yuffie covered her mouth, trying to keep laughter or frightened gasps in, he didn't know. All Squall knew was that his groin had nearly been assaulted by a sharp block of. . . something, and he was still staring at it wide-eyed.

That. Was. Too. Damn. Close.

Finally finding his voice, words that one would usually never associate with a young child so many had labelled a sweet little angel rolled off his tongue in quick succession, tone low, harsh and biting, causing Yuffie to wince at the oh-so colourful language Squall had decided to use at that moment.

She supposed it _was_ her fault, but she decided to wait until he had cooled down a little before she apologized. It looked like Squall really still was Leon. Yuffie wasn't sure whether she should be disappointed or relieved, but it didn't really matter because, in the end, Leon was the one who everyone would miss and want to see – especially his dad – and Squall would be. . . well, he would just be a piece of the past.

Yuffie was so immersed in her reflections that she hadn't realized that Squall had stopped his cursing, instead holding up one of the books that had fallen off the coffee table during his fall and staring at its contents. The deathly silence that ensued had been the one that snapped Yuffie out of her reverie, the girl choosing to glance at Squall – surprised that he had a very distraught expression on his face. She looked at the book Squall was holding.

It was Cloud's biology textbook.

Squall couldn't believe his eyes.

As he flicked through the book, he could see that every single page – every page that had been previously ripped out from the spine – all of them had been carefully positioned before taped together in place with transparent scotch tape. Every single page.

He flipped to the very last page, noting that it had been indexed as page number 376, and found that he felt nothing at that very moment. Nothing at all. Squall was completely hollow, absolutely empty, staring at that final page and wondering _why_.

Why bother picking up all the torn pages scattered across that dirty corridor? Why even bother taping together every single page, aligning them perfectly with the text in the pieces of paper still attached to the comb? Why hadn't he just bought another textbook from the store? _Why?_

"I heard a crash, is everything okay?" Cloud's concerned voice rang through the room as he rushed to the pair, eyes raking in everything in his line of sight as they fell to Squall who was still on the ground. He immediately squatted over where he was, scanning the boy for any scratches or bruises. Squall quietly allowed Cloud to look him over, eyes carefully averted so that he didn't have to look directly at the blond. Cloud carefully gripped his arm and pulled his shorts up slightly to inspect his knees.

Nothing was particularly wrong with Squall, so Cloud eased and got to his feet, pulling the boy up with him. He glared warningly at Yuffie who had emitted a quiet, "Eeep!" and fallen off the couch before ducking her head apologetically and cleaning up the mess that had been made.

Once everything was back to normal, Cloud ran through the house rules a final time, making sure she promised to adhere to _everything_ or risk hell on earth. It had, with much time and effort, taken a _lot_ for Cloud to get Squall better and less closed off. Yuffie was going to cater to his self-esteem and _not_ make him uncomfortable in any way whatsoever. She agreed with some degree of enthusiasm, but had clearly deflated when Cloud mentioned that she couldn't invite people over or finish off their food.

Squall, on the other hand, was unusually quiet, and so Cloud had squatted down again so they were at eye level. Asking Squall what was wrong didn't prompt any response from the child, and an expression of worry quickly crossed his features. Soon, however, Cloud found that the boy was clutching onto his textbook, his grey eyes trained on the ground and his lips pressed together in a firm line.

"Found my textbook?" he asked softly.

Squall didn't respond.

"Looked inside?"

Squall's gaze flickered upwards, towards the blond, nervously, but it was almost immediately downcast once again.

"You know," Cloud began, voice a little amused. "It's not your fault the book is in such bad condition. A really bad bully from my school did that. You don't worry, okay?"

Cloud retrieved the book with a grin and pressed a light kiss to Squall's forehead before waving both of them goodbye and leaving. Squall's eyes followed the line of Cloud's back before the teenager disappeared down the street. He remained quiet, motionless. The familiar silence of the house reigned for a moment, everything fading in warmth by a little now that the home lost the presence of the vital person who was always in it, making it. . . home. It was a little. . . lonely.

"Aww, widdle Squall liked Cloud giving him a smoochie!"

Oh god_dammit_.

**xxx**

It had taken a bit, but he had successfully gotten Yuffie to calm down. She had gotten all hyper and crazy again after Cloud's departure and started to chase him around the house, hands flying to his cheeks and pulling until he was sure he didn't own anymore cheeks. He had stumbled over this and that, and she had tripped over him then. Seizing the opportunity, she had taken to squeezing the life out of him until he had to beg her to let go because he was losing feeling. . . _everywhere_.

Of course, she hadn't listened to him and proceeded to mess up his hair, teasing him endlessly and many other things that he didn't quite remember, because the oxygen he had been lacking was making everything go fuzzy.

It had taken quite a bit, but she was finally quiet and seated some distance away from him.

Even if that annoyingly smug grin was _still_ plastered on her face.

"Talk," he growled, glaring at the girl.

She _giggled_.

"Aww, Squally Wally, do you know how cute you look when you attempt to glower? You look like a little kitten who doesn't get what it wants!"

It wasn't fair.

The glare intensified.

"Oh, you're no fun," she griped, puffing up her cheeks and crossing her arms. "Aerith called and said she was doing a little research on the antidote whenever she had free time at Destiny Islands. Apparently it's paopu season there too, and she promised to send a crate over. She'll snail mail us a bunch of recipes too, so we can make smoothies, and cocktails. . ."

Squall raised a brow.

"Oh, oh right. My bad. Off-topic. Anyways, we had some of the potion's recipe written out in our notes and we gotta tell you, it's gonna take a while. We've always tested the alpha and beta versions of the potion on some fresh plants, and even then, it took a long time before we got everything right. Once we _did_, it took us a month to pluck some lunar flowers since they only bloom during the new moon. Brewing the potion with all the proper methods and ingredients took us approximately 2 months and 4 days."

Squall felt himself shrink.

"Yeah, I know, I'm sorry. But we had what we were looking for in the book and that took us _ages_. Figuring out something that would counter react the deaging potion you drank could take. . . _ages_. _Years_, even. I mean, we would. . ."

By then, nothing else went through Squall's head.

Years.

He would remain a young, pre-pubescent child for _years_. He wouldn't be able to mingle with his real friends, or even live with his father again. He missed his father, so help him, and now he wouldn't be able to face the man who raised him because of a stupid mistake Yuffie and Aerith had made. He wouldn't be able to go to the mature section of the town's library and pull out an old and classical book, or reference items that dealt with controversial issues.

He'd have to deal with the hellish process of growing up once again, have to sit in the sandbox and 'play' with his 'peers'. He'd have to re-sit all those tests that he had already gratefully conquered.

This was ridiculous.

_Years_.

". . . you're not listening to me, are you?"

Squall looked at her warily, eyebrow raised.

"You're expounding on my demise. I'm tuning out all unnecessary details. Get to the damn point, Yuffie."

She grimaced. _Harsh_.

"You're really blunt, you know that? And here I was, thinking you had actually changed for the better. . ."

Squall glared at her.

"Geez, I _get_ it, okay? Look, Aerith and I are working our butts off to get this thing done right. The least you can do is be nice while we're at it. I know, I know, it's our _fault_ in the first place, but _still_-"

"The point, Yuffie. The damn point."

"Well. . . we, uh, we came across something – a type of root – but Aerith has to check if it is beneficial to your health and safe for consumption. If we're lucky, we can try to ask someone like Professor Ansem to help out. The only thing is we don't want to get busted, since alchemy is illegal and all, so we're being careful. You'll have to wait 2 weeks before we can confirm anything, give or take a couple days."

Squall rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers, exhaling slowly.

"And you're not even sure if this will cure my current condition?"

"Erm, well, until Aerith gets back with any definitive answers and. . ." She caught the look on his face before caving in.

". . . no."

He sighed.

It wasn't _fair_.

**xxx**

It was really, really strange.

When Cloud had returned, the air hanging about the house was one of gloom and misery. Yuffie left promptly upon his arrival, her face somehow a little apologetic. She merely mentioned that they had eaten a few crackers and watched television while he was gone, and that his mother came to pick up her forgotten papers and had left about an hour back.

Squall had been lying, stomach down, on the couch, his face buried in a cushion. A little worried for the boy's flow of air, he had tentatively gone to the boy's side to pick him up and maybe tuck him into bed. Cloud was mildly surprised when Squall had turned his head to look at the teenager upon contact – proving thereby that he was wide awake – and had eyed the blond with an unreadable expression before burying his head into the cushion once again, shoving Cloud away.

Cloud surmised that Squall was just grumpy after spending a day with Yuffie.

And so, he had simply unpacked the handful of groceries he had bought on the way home. There was some homework he had to do, so he had thrown his bag onto the dining table and pulled out a bag of chips from the refrigerator.

Homework was relatively moderate in difficulty, and all the answers were in his textbook, so he didn't have too much trouble with that. He had had accounts and literature classes earlier, and since they were classes for extra credit, he had been piled with a not-so-modest amount of work.

Homework itself took up about 2 hours of his time, Cloud finally throwing the towel in when he found that he had been doodling a little moogle playing with its pom-pom on his accounting textbook instead of balancing the numbers on his worksheet.

A little bored and hungry, Cloud poked his head into the living room to find that Squall was still in that same position, face still buried in the cushion. He stalked over, gingerly lowering himself onto his knees as he let his forearms rest on the couch, by Squall's shoulder, Cloud resting his chin on his wrist as he quietly observed the little boy.

The kid was most definitely awake.

There had been a little twitch of the fingers, and a quick glint of dark grey eyes, but he was otherwise ignored. A little amused and worried, Cloud let his fingers curl gently around Squall's small shoulder and lightly shake the boy.

His hand was firmly slapped away.

_'Definitely grumpy,'_ Cloud thought, his hand returning to Squall's shoulder and pulling him up slightly. This time, he made an annoyed sound, roughly pushing against Cloud in a manner that clearly meant he wanted to be left alone. Cloud raised his eyebrows acerbically, resolute in getting the boy up and cheery – as cheery as _Squall_ could, anyhow – as he straightened his back and wrapped his arms around the boy's petite waist.

He was met with a faceful of pillow.

Eyes narrowing with challenge, Cloud took in the smug, angry and ruffled look Squall currently sported, dark grey eyes glaring and burning holes in his head before the kid could register what next happened.

Squall had not been hit with a cushion. Oh no, he _hadn't_.

Before he knew it, Squall had already launched himself towards Cloud, taking the pillow in both hands and somehow wrestling him down onto the couch. With a firm grip, he started beating Cloud's head with the pillow, earning anguished shouts from the older teenager. Mercilessly, a cheeky grin had already made its way to Squall's face, who had started aiming his hits so that they constantly whacked Cloud's nose.

With a well-aimed smack from the boy, Cloud had slipped off the couch and onto the floor, Squall still straddling him during his fall. The younger boy fumbled a little and landed face first on top of the teenager, who had taken the opportunity to grasp a pillow that had fallen with him, hitting the brunet's backside with quite a bit of packed force.

With a startled yelp, Squall took another pillow in his grip once again and scrambled to his knees, still straddling Cloud's stomach, and somehow managed to pin the blond down, whacking him repeatedly before a pillow connected with the back of his head.

Cloud rolled them over and began hitting Squall with his own cushion, discarding it soon after and attacking the boy's sides with dancing fingers.

Squall's headstrong exterior melted away almost immediately as he started laughing his lungs out, struggling to get Cloud off him but failing as more hilarity wracked his small frame. He gasped for air, eyes squeezing shut as he flailed wildly under Cloud, face red and head foggy due to the lack of oxygen. His struggles grew more brutish with each passing moment before he started going a little limp, his resistance weakening slightly.

A bright grin had broken through the hardened lines of Squall's face, his lips spread wide and his rosy cheeks more prominent with the deep blush that coloured his visage, voice cracking as his laughs receded and gave way to quieter bursts of sniggers and giggles.

Cloud was getting a huge kick out of this and grinned in turn, feeling, oddly enough, more light hearted than he had in _years_. He paused for a moment to give his aching fingers a little rest, but at that moment, Squall's hand had shot out and was pinching his nose, fingers squeezing it with a deathly grip and twisting.

Deep and resounding, 'Ow's filled the room as Squall pulled Cloud down by the nose, letting go abruptly before pushing Cloud onto his back. The teenager, who had immediately gotten both hands on his nose to nurse the pain that had gathered there, had choked with even more pain when Squall _dive bombed_ onto the blond's stomach with a giggle, Cloud doing a double take at the sudden pressure on such a sensitive part of his body. Seizing the moment, Squall pulled up Cloud's shirt and started to tickle his stomach.

Cloud's deep laughter echoed through the room as he started to thrash a little, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes as his body forgot to struggle against the small boy sitting on top of him. He hiccupped slightly, voice too weak to carry anymore laughter so much so he was reduced to chortles and chuckles. With a satisfied grin, Squall finally stopped, leaning over and gazing triumphantly at Cloud.

It was really, really strange.

With an exhausted smile, Cloud raised his hand to ruffle Squall's hair, pulling him down so that the boy was lying flat on Cloud's body. The blond was still wheezing for air, face hot and breath erratic. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, the burning sensation in his lungs slowly ebbing away. Squall felt strangely comforted by the nearness and the warmth between them and allowed his head to rest against the teenager's collarbone, catching his breath at the same time.

They remained in that position for quite some time, Cloud and Squall both getting their hearts to slow down and the surge of adrenaline to recede as Cloud continued to soothingly stroke Squall's hair, fingers threaded in his soft, brown tresses.

They remained quiet, only their breathing and the sound of passing cars being all they heard as Squall found himself nuzzling against the teenager slightly, closing his eyes and allowing a smile to grace his lips. He lowered his head, resting the side by Cloud's chest so he could hear his heart beating steadily.

Everything was soothingly tranquil. It was like a calming sheen of snow had fallen and covered a vast expanse of land, ending the rusted golden season of autumn and glittering through the sky like small beads of crystal. White was coating everything, making everything seem pristine and pure. The world was at peace. Everything was wonderful and serene.

It was Cloud who broke the silence, but even then, he spoke softly, as though he refused to disturb the tranquillity of the current situation.

"No more sulking, got that?"

Squall nodded, mindlessly murmuring a soft, "Okay," as he let out a quiet and content sigh, burying his face in Cloud's chest.

For some strange reason, he could feel the smile playing across Cloud's lips. He couldn't see it, but he could clearly feel it. And it wasn't even a half-hearted curl of the lips, neither was it that fleeting ghost of a smile. It was a full-fledged smile that had widened across Cloud's face, and this time of the blond's own accord, not due to being tickled or anything of the sort.

Cloud was smiling, he really was, and he hadn't even known it. All he knew was that, for the very first time, Squall had said something to him completely voluntarily. And it wasn't even anything negative. Squall, a boy who had so adamantly hated him during their first meeting, had laughed and grinned with him. And even though Cloud had suspected that Squall was not a mute child, a little worry had been there because the boy had never uttered a word while they were together.

And he had said something. Something positive. To Cloud.

Granted, it had only been one word and wasn't even really something he 'said' because it was neither keeping a conversation alive, nor did it even initiate one. But he had already figured that Squall wouldn't warm up to anyone unless he really liked that person, much less speak to them. With Cid, all he had done was nod or shake his head. Squall hadn't even talked to Cloud's own _mother_ yet, and it was obvious the boy was crazy for her.

It made him feel so. . . happy.

Squall didn't know why, but it became even warmer when he felt that smile growing on Cloud's face. His stomach was doing a few flutters, making it feel as though butterflies were doing successive somersaults in his tummy, and when he opened his eyes to glance up at the affectionate pair that was gazing down at him fondly, that feeling grew stronger. And this time, Squall didn't hesitate in shyly smiling back.

It was really, _really_ strange.


	5. Chapter 5

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 05  
Words: 9 127  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): Eventual Cloud x Leon  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
Rated: R

* * *

Squall felt a slight tugging at the blankets.

He swiped at it sleepily, murmuring something about five more minutes before squirming under the covers and nestling comfortably in bed. Just as he was about to drift off to sleep once again, he felt something firm and warm whisper up the blanket and rest on his forehead, sweeping away his bangs. It was a rather comforting action and the boy found himself gently nuzzling it; whatever it was.

And then there was a sharp pinch on is nose.

Irritably, Squall pried his eyes open, gaze already narrowed in a drowsy glower at the person standing over him. After momentarily allowing his vision to adjust to the dim light of the room, the blurry figure came into a focus and revealed a blond teenager, dressed in a loose shirt and baggy trousers who had on a very faint smile curling at his lips. His face was relaxed and his eyes twinkled in mirth, the scene before him obviously entertaining to a degree.

Tritely, Cloud withdrew his hand from Squall's nose and waited patiently as the boy sat up, rubbing his eyes sleepily. The boy's hair was sticking out at odd angles from sleep and he let out a small, stretched out yawn, smacking his lips together twice before looking up at Cloud in enquiry, eyes half-lidded.

"Come on, get out of bed. We're going out today."

Squall blinked.

He squinted at the clock hanging on the wall behind Cloud and felt the onslaught of a frown pull at his lips when the time displayed on the object slowly registered in his mind. Bit by bit, he noted how dark the room was, realizing that this could only mean that the Sun had just risen.

Someone was going to get hurt.

"What's with that face? Up you get," Cloud told him firmly, though his tone held a distinct touch of playfulness to it. The blond teenager pulled off the thick blanket from the bed in one fluid movement, leaving the boy to shiver on the mattress from the sudden draft.

Squall mustered as much of a glare as he could and shot it at Cloud, though the teenager paid it no attention, having had already busied himself with folding the blanket neatly, patting out the wrinkles and creases before setting it on the wooden loveseat located against the wall, by the doorway. As usual, Squall's eyes followed Cloud's every fluid motion, falling silent and gaze growing contemplative.

It was a new habit he had developed, staring quietly at the teenager; Cloud's movements were strangely alluring and almost graceful in their own right. He possessed something naturally captivating – much like his own mother, maybe it was in their genes? – and it never ceased to mesmerize Squall, who found that he had started to constantly watch Cloud whenever he had the chance to.

It was so foreign and surreal, being able to observe Cloud in the manner he had. All this while, the contempt that he had harboured for the blond before had filtered everything for him; Cloud was weak, Cloud was pathetic, Cloud was soft, Cloud was girlish, Cloud was dull, Cloud was stupid – the list went on. He had never really seen Cloud for Cloud, had never noticed how gentle Cloud was when he dressed Squall's wounds, had never understood before the gentleness behind Cloud's reason for working for the grumpiest old man in the town, had never felt the tenderness Cloud showered on his mother and children – Squall himself.

Every single damned time, to put it simply.

Squall wondered what had made him hate the blond so in the past.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Cloud picked him up and set him on the floor, Squall rubbing his eyes sleepily as his other hand fisted the material of the blond's trousers. Unaffected, Cloud pulled at the bed sheets and started to make the bed neatly and quickly in practiced motions, obviously having had a lot of experience in the past.

Once the young boy was a little more awake, he found that he probably had to get ready to go wherever it was Cloud planned on taking him. He let go of the blond's pants and trudged heavily towards the bathroom. However, mid-step, Squall was halted by two hands pressed firmly on his shoulders. He tilted his head backwards glancing up drowsily at Cloud in enquiry.

"Don't shower. It's pointless to take one now."

At that seemingly cryptic statement, Squall found himself pausing and pondering the nature of those words, only nodding hesitantly in response.

Whatever it was, he'd get to know about it once they left.

**xxx**

The car ride had given him enough time for a brief nap, and that alone lifted Squall's spirit by a little. As Cloud parked the car, the boy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, glancing out the window curiously, his head tilted to the side slightly.

They were in a wide and remote meadow, having travelled off a dusty dirt-ridden road to get there, and a small cottage surrounded by plump geranium and gardenia bushes came into view, the blossoms in full bloom. The soft flowers were of a gentle pastel shade, mildly accenting the wild green of the lush leaves. Adorning the footpath leading up to the entrance of the cottage were small, rectangular pots of sweet cerulean forget-me-nots and creamy achilleas. The blue flowers were tiny; charming in their own right as they beckoned the two into the house. It was a scene straight out from a picture book.

Bitterly, Cloud couldn't help but murmur softly to himself about how symbolic the dainty forget-me-nots really were.

Cloud's voice had barely carried over the sweeping breeze, but Squall had heard it. The boy had already learnt how to catch even the faintest sounds Cloud made, and he had heard that remark as clear as daylight as he climbed out of the car, eyes resting on the pots of soft indigo flowers.

He couldn't help but agree.

"Oy, boys! Here already, eh?"

From the doorway, a blond middle-aged man could be seen leaning up against the wooden frame, a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He had on a plain blue shirt with jeans, and around his neck dangled some dog tags. Cid's lips were pulled upwards in a roguish grin, his gaze immediately softening as they landed on Squall.

Squall gazed up at him curiously, feeling a hand loosely grip his own as the faint sound of a slamming boot echoed through the clearing. Cloud had in his other hand two bags, both of them gripped securely by the handles as the blond carefully stuck his keys into the pocket of his trousers. Cloud's grasp on Squall's hand tightened and he led the boy towards the house.

The brunet entered the place quietly, eyes straying as they took in anything and everything within his line of sight. Cid had disappeared somewhere with their things and Cloud simply stood where he was, allowing Squall to thoroughly sate his curiosity before they continued on.

The cottage was homey and cosy, spacious. The furniture was squashy and arranged comfortably, though sparse in number. A small television was placed on top of a low table in front of 4 sofas and a reclining chair. A large oak table was located to the far left of the entrance, somewhere near the door leading to the kitchen, a vase of tulips placed in the centre of it. There was a diminutive cabinet placed upright against the wall to the right, a piece of cloth with white lace hanging over it. Photographs and little notes were settled neatly on top of it, the empty cradle of a cordless house phone set up beside them.

Squall could barely believe that this small, neat house belonged to Cid Highwind.

Even more likely, it belonged to a wrinkly old woman living off her husband's pension.

He walked slowly towards the cabinet, eyes carefully scanning the photographs, hand never letting go of Cloud's. There were pictures of Cid and a younger woman with dark hair together, both of them grinning happily at the camera in various poses, all of them framed neatly.

The largest photograph that was placed in the very middle was of the two of them in front of a car, in a windy area. The woman was laughing heartily as Cid, who had on a delighted and cheeky grin, draped an arm around her waist, his other hand patting her slightly bulging stomach tentatively.

He looked so. . . _happy_.

"See that lady?" a soft voice caressed his ear in a whisper. "That's Cid's wife. These are pictures of them before they split up. She was still pregnant here."

Squall's gaze never faltered, his eyes still diligently trained on the photographs as he nodded in acquiescence at Cloud's elucidation. It explained many things, though those answers gave way to even more questions that had begun to overrun his thoughts like a black plague. Why had they divorced? They seemed absolutely happy together. Had Cid always been that grumpy? How old had Cid and his ex-wife been when they married? How long did their marriage last? Was he kinder, nicer before? Did that incident close him off somehow?

Cloud, on the other hand, felt thoroughly surprised that he actually bothered telling Squall all this. The boy was young – only 5 or 6 years old – and he didn't need to know all these cruel aspects of reality. Not now. 

Yet Squall took everything in coolly, understanding all these complex problems and being constantly aware of his environment, of the issues surrounding him. Never once did he display confusion or uneasiness whenever the blond confided in him of these dark matters.

So mature.

Cloud didn't think he had ever met even a _peer_ as mature as this child was. Squall possessed a sort of hidden wisdom inside him, one that he guarded carefully as he silently observed life in all its goings-on, revealing his knowledge bit by bit in appropriation to the situation. Cloud felt inexplicably drawn to the boy, try as he might to keep himself if not a little detached, and found that he wanted to be as close to Squall as he would be allowed. In the bland canvas that painted his life, Cloud found that his happening upon Squall to be that vibrant shade that outrageously smeared some life into the monotonous picture of his existence.

It would have been the greatest honour in the world to him for the 6-year-old brunet to go up to the blond and entrust to Cloud his heart and all his faith. To be so believed, to be placed upon such hope, to be cherished with shy smiles of affection and adoring little glances from the boy – he felt that nothing at all else in the world would have made him happier.

Cloud found that he was looking forward to the future, to nurturing Squall as he grew up.

He wanted to be a part of Squall's picture.

Cloud was snapped out of his musings promptly enough. He blinked, peering down at Squall who was pulling his hand, beckoning towards the open door leading towards the backyard. Cid was visible through the doorway, standing up with a hand on his hip as the other waved robustly above his head, his hoarse voice ringing through the air and telling them to hurry up.

Cloud glanced downwards, noticing how wide and enquiring Squall's eyes were, the boy's head tilted to a slight degree as though asking Cloud if the teenager was fine. A smile ghosting over his lips, the blond squeezed Squall's hand affectionately, nodding in reaffirmation.

Both pleased, they made their way through the door and walked down the path that lead to where Cid was.

There was a pause.

Cloud glanced sideways discreetly, a smug smile playing across his lips in satisfaction at the expression that had been educed from the quiet brunet.

Squall was floored.

Totally and completely floored.

Before him rolled endless waves of green, soft pastels shading in every blade of grass with gentle colours, lissom petals flowing nimbly with the quiet breeze that whispered across the surface of the wide river that crossed daintily across the plain. A few large trees scattered across the land sparsely, but Cid was resting underneath a moderate sized apple tree – something Squall himself could probably climb – and it was located not too far away from the edge of the water.

The water of the river was that of a gurgling rush, droplets skimming through the air after rapids collided with a stone or two, reflecting the sunlight and casting a dazzling shimmer of colours before it fell to the earth. Everything was so beautiful; calm and tranquil.

There was no way in hell Cid Highwind could have lived in a place like this.

"Oy, gonna stay there an' gawk all day, kid? Get yer butt over here!" the man barked with good humour, gesturing for the two of them to come over, a cheeky grin wide across his lips. Cid's eyes twinkled mischievously as he saw how disoriented Squall was, the boy staring at everything in utter disbelief as he stumbled over to Cid, Cloud gently guiding him towards the picnic site.

Too strange.

"Ey, come to Uncle Cid!"

Squall was in the man's lap again, and this time, he was accepting a sandwich from him. Cloud was across them, pouring some tea into three mugs, murmuring something in response to whatever it was Cid had said. It didn't matter; Squall paid no attention to their conversation because he was a little busy figuring some things out.

Squall always seemed to lose his train of thought around the man because Cid was just so damn quick.

Resigned, the brunet chewed hungrily on his sandwich, settling himself comfortably on the older blond's crossed legs as Cid started to chatter animatedly about the types of plants he grew, and of the variety of flowers that had flourished with the coming of summer. As usual, Squall listened on attentively, nodding every now and again to signify that he was indeed paying attention as the older man picked up a sandwich and tore it in half, offering one half to the boy who accepted it gratefully before chomping it down. Pointing some way off, Cid took a large bite of his sandwich and swallowed, singling out a particular plant.

"See that shrubbery way 'oer there, boy?" he asked gruffly. Squall nodded in response, squinting at the plant as he wiped away some crumbs from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"They've got great big seeds that taste mighty good if ya cook 'em up right. Spike here knows how to do it, I'll get the runt to make some later, eh?"

Squall widened his eyes slightly, tilting his head backwards and looking up at the man before giving him a small grin and nodding.

Cid _glowed_.

"Yeah, heh, well," he scratched his nose a little, that grin of his widening brilliantly. Cid looked very pleased with himself. "I used to grow heaps of 'em all by myself, but geraniums and primroses tend to take up all yer time once ya start plantin' 'em. Like the flowers out front? Did them up all myself. Heh, Uncle Cid's pretty great, eh?"

Cloud snorted audibly, taking out a Tupperware from the basket Cid had brought along.

"You _say_ sumthin', kid?" he snapped roughly at the teenager, eyes narrowing. Cloud met his gaze coolly, amusement apparent on his face as he pressed his lips firmly together, as though keeping down a laugh.

"I don't think I did."

"Yeah, well, good," Cid replied smugly, tossing Cloud a final reproachful look before leaning over – Squall having to follow his movements – and reaching for a steamed dumpling.

Cloud finally settled himself down across them, taking off his light jacket and folding it neatly, placing it beside him. He was mostly quiet, nodding now and then and murmuring something softly in response as he usually did with other people. Reaching over and tearing open a packet of crackers, he managed an artless glance upwards to find Cid looking some ways off, jabbering about a tree and pie, and that his gaze had locked with Squall's.

Getting caught staring was something Squall had not planned at all.

It had been a casual sweep of the area at first, eyes raking in as much of the scenery as he could possibly take in before he noticed the food splayed out before him. Eyes hungrily devouring the sight of the plates of fried chicken, an assortment of sandwiches, some steamed dumplings and spring rolls before him, it was then when Squall's gaze had innocently caught a glimpse of Cloud's pale hand, reaching over for a packet of crackers.

His eyes mindlessly followed the graceful movements of the blond, the teenager carefully pulling at the center of the plastic foil and ripping the bag open, to the tips of his fingers that had tentatively grabbed the snack and brought it up to his full lips.

Squall's eyes lingered for a little while before they travelled a little higher, stealing a clearer glance of Cloud's outlandishly blue eyes. He had never admitted it before, but Cloud had the queerest, most alluring pair of eyes he had ever had the fortune of seeing.

Cloud's eyes weren't the bright blue of the sky, neither were they the deep blue of the ocean. They were nothing like the dark glitter of sapphire, they did not have the sweet innocence of forget-me-nots, and they were clearer than the faint, glistening blue of a white-hot flame. They were of a rich, ethereal shade, something that could not be described with mere words but Squall wanted to have something to compare them to, anyways.

And then, he had been caught.

The brunet barely saw the thoroughly amused expression on Cloud's face as he turned away in embarrassment, nodding meekly at Cid who had at that moment offered him some tea to drink. He tentatively received the mug with both hands, blowing at the drink in order to cool it down before Cid fished around for a napkin to clean Squall's mouth with.

It had taken a bit, but after a while, Squall had eventually come to find that Cid was a strangely tolerant and affectionate man when it came to kids. Perhaps it was just that close bond he apparently shared with Cloud that made for the snide remarks they threw at each other that made it appear that he and Cloud were always fighting, but Squall had seen that proud twinkle in Cid's eye whenever Cloud related something he did or performed well. Squall had already established that Cloud had a sorely soft spot for the old man, and so he supposed that that had to be the reason behind his marginal indifference to this newfound discovery.

Also, Cid seemed uncannily nice. He was a chain smoker, and someone who cursed with every sentence or two; these facts were well known throughout the city.

He had kept his mouth amazingly clean even through the arguments he had with Cloud, and instead of a cigarette, a long, dangling piece of straw hung from the corner of his lips.

Recalling the photographs resting on the cabinet back inside the house, Squall found himself questioning how much Cid had really lost.

The boy suddenly felt restless, fidgeting slightly and squirming on Cid who was refilling his mug with tea. Sensing the boy's discomfort, the older blond leant back, allowing Squall to readjust his position as his soft brown air tickled the mechanic's stubbly chin. A soft grin was on Cid's lips again as he gazed down fondly at the boy who had leaned far back against Cid's chest, nestling himself with a small pout on his face.

For some odd reason, he just couldn't get comfortable.

"You okay there, kiddo?"

Squall let out an irritable huff of air, lower lip jutted out in frustration at Cid's friendly, brusque voice. A quiet, entertained chortle followed the exasperated sound made by the brunet, and soon enough, he felt himself being pulled up to his feet by the armpits. The boy glanced backwards in surprise, blinking in enquiry.

"If you need the potty, it's back in the house by the kitchen. Now scoot. Don't need ya peeing all over yerself now, y'hear?"

Squall's face fell, Cid's words and their implications crashing down on him with the momentum of a fallen beam as heat rushed madly to his face at that. Edgily, he stiffly managed to turn his head by a margin, eyes hesitantly shifting to the side to see Cloud's reaction.

Cloud had on an uncharacteristic grin on his face, his lips curling upwards and spread wide, revealing a set of straight white teeth as his eyes sparkled with unrepressed mirth.

Mortified, Squall kicked it and made a mad dash back towards the cottage, face burning up with humiliation as the good-natured chuckles of the middle-aged man and the unspoken laughter of the teenager echoed amiably through the meadow, following Squall into the home. He had tripped on a loose stone some ways up the path, but had scrambled back up and ignored the throbbing burn searing under the skin of his knees, running into the house.

Panting slightly, he bent over by a degree, a hand resting on the fleshy area of his thigh as the other wiped away the sweat that clung to his forehead. The slow, numbing sensation that had dully hewed him had begun to pulsate heavily, causing him to wince when his dirt-soiled fingernails had accidentally chafed the cut slicing deeply into his flesh.

Squall straightened, calming himself down and forcing himself to take deep, easy breaths as he inspected his dirty hands and the scratches adorning his legs. Blood had begun to ooze down his knees, mingling with some grass and earth that still clung to his skin. Exhaling smoothly, he scraped the dirt off, looking around and searching for the toilet to wash the injuries.

A little absentminded, Squall had accidentally bumped into a chair, causing an angry, red bump to swell on his forehead. Tears had already started to well up at the corner of his eyes, but he chided himself for being so childish and blinked them away, wiping the superfluous tears away with the back of his hand.

Everything was a little out of focus, no thanks to the injury, and he wobbled uncertainly, stumbling around the house like a blind drunkard. Afraid that he would cause the toppling over pf anything fragile, Squall attempted to stay still until the throbbing on his forehead receded and his eyesight returned, but his legs kept moving of their own accord, the sharp burning jolting through his kneecaps dominating his thoughts.

Precariously, he knocked headlong into the small cabinet, tumbling to the floor with a slight yelp and grabbing at the furniture instinctively as he fell.

A single tear rolled down his cheek before he could stop himself.

A quiet, choked sob was caught in his throat, Squall hastily scrubbing his eyes with his knuckles and sniffing back the tears that threatened to fall. He looked around wearily, a small ounce of relief comforting him by a small degree as he noticed that he hadn't broken or dropped anything.

However, as he had plummeted to the ground, Squall's fingers had accidentally latched onto the edges of the heavy wooden doors of the cabinet, swinging it ajar as the carpet broke his fall, and thereby causing it to smack into his face. His entire face felt red from the pain and embarrassment, but inwardly, he was glad that there was no one to bear witness to his clumsiness.

Carefully, Squall rubbed his face and cheeks, easing out the pain before he felt a small puff of air by his feet, some small objects dropping onto his lap.

Lowering his gaze, his eyes rested on a dusty packet – it appeared to have originally been an envelope – the paper old, yellowing, a little tattered around the edges. The pallid item was worn, thinning, its torn corners revealing blunt tips of what seemed like paper. Brown age spots marred the once-pallid envelope, mixed with cracked tobacco and dried tea dregs, the waspish scent faint and vague, but ever present.

A little apprehensive, Squall thought fleetingly before he turned the packet over, his fingers brushing over the paper, nimbly fingering the ragged flap of the envelope and pulling it back. He reached a petite hand inside, feeling the rough edges of papers and photographs before grasping on them and sliding them out.

There were disorganized sheets of paper scribbled on with different coloured ink, some of them sticking out a little from the pile. Photographs slipped out of his grip and fell down in between his thighs, fanning out on the floor. Quietly, carefully, Squall set the papers down, reshuffling them so that they were neat, and then collected the pictures from the ground, piling them together in a modest heap beside him.

Squall's deep grey eyes scanned the handwriting – slanted and a little loopy, curling at the ends – that was surprisingly clear, reading a few lines before realizing that he had in his hands a stack of old, worn out letters. He could picture each of them in the careful, firm grip of Cid's rough and calloused hands, paper unfolded vigilantly, the letter re-read over and over again until the ink seeped into the paper and the constant handling of the stationary caused the dried pulp to erode and fluff up.

Squall read a few of the first lines of a letter and suddenly, something clenched hard in his heart and refused to let go. A cold, unsettling feeling shot though him with the intensity of a glacial chill, a sinking feeling overwhelming him before he realized what it was:

_Guilt_.

He couldn't read Cid's letters; they were personal.

No matter how curious Squall was, he couldn't breach that trust that Cid had placed in him. Even if he was only now a child, his actions could certainly make the man veer off course emotionally, and perhaps the old man would start avoiding him – maybe he'd act different, awkward.

However, that overpowering urge to _know_ made Squall's resolution waver, and he snuck a glance at the letter and caught sight of a few words that made his eyes widen in disbelief.

Hastily, the boy straightened the papers again and made to shove them into the packet. It was a slight hassle, but Squall eventually managed to squeeze them in if not a little haphazardly, much like in the condition he found them in. He rested his hand on the pile of photographs by his side, and he hesitated for a long moment, gaze lingering on the back of his small hand.

Between his fingers, he could make out the image of a very young boy – maybe 2 or 3 years old – with light coloured hair, brown – a contrast to his dark, earthen coloured tresses – and slightly tanned skin. He had dimples uplifting his expression, cheekbones set high, his clear eyes a sweet sparkle.

Slowly, Squall removed his hand, picking up the picture, eyes focusing on the photograph as he looked at it thoroughly, carefully.

Behind the boy was a teenager, eyes and hair an alluring dark shade. His skin was much darker than the smaller boy's in the photograph, and he had both hands resting on the child's shoulders. His eyes were twinkling mischievously, grin wide and almost cocky as he winked at the camera.

In another photo, that same teenager was holding up the camera, evident from its tilted angle and the raven-haired boy's disappeared hand, his other arm casually curled around the nape of an older man's neck. Beside him was Cid, grinning widely at the camera, an arm draped around the boy's neck as well. He looked a little younger, stronger, _happier_.

He wasn't wearing his usual dirty shirt and goggles, Cid this time sporting a clean dress shirt, his scruffy hair combed back precariously. His bangs hung over his eyes, making him appear even more youthful than he was, though his stubble was ever-present.

In the background, behind them, the back of another teenager was visible.

He had spiky blond hair.

There was nothing else to indicate that the person was Cloud, but how many people in the town had that hairstyle? Granted, it could have been imitated by anyone, but the brunet honestly doubted that anyone would go through all that trouble. Besides, the person's posture and the simple fact that he looked the way he did just somehow made the boy feel that it was, an albeit younger version of, Cloud.

Squall stared at the photograph, eyeing every detail and raking in everything on the faded picture. It appeared to have been taken in the exact same house, but it seemed less empty. More life. Without realizing it, a small frown had begun to pull at his lips, gaze lowering by a margin before he suddenly felt the presence of another person before him.

Squall was certain that he should have at least felt a little panic at getting caught red-handed, but he was completely calm as the figure squatted down in front of him.

It unnerved him a little.

No matter what, he just did not have any control over his emotions and reactions. Everything just happened. Maybe it was the other person's aura – tender and cool – that relaxed him, soothed him, reassured him that he wasn't in trouble.

When a warm hand briefly touched his face – his cheek – he had taken in a smooth breath and slowly raised his eyes, eventually finding himself gazing deeply into a pair of smouldering blue eyes. His confidence left him, and inside, a fine tremble had begun to shake Squall.

Those eyes were deep, intoxicating, hypnotizing; so fraught with emotions that it was difficult to tell what Cloud was feeling. That gaze of his felt unbearably accusing all of a sudden, and Squall had the sudden urge to bow his head and look away, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to look away from Cloud.

Silently, the blond teenager lowered his hand, grasping Squall's and gently prying the photographs from his now-limp grip. Cloud's gaze flickered downwards, a haze of something unmistakably like nostalgia filming thinly over his eyes before his lips twitched a little, the curl at its edges bitter, fleeting.

Squall raised his head, staring at Cloud solemn expression with deathlike pensiveness, waiting patiently like a prisoner in anticipation of his sentence.

A few lingering minutes passed before Cloud eventually spoke, his tone mild and his expression softened at the brunet's grave, almost frightened, disposition.

"Cid looks really young here, doesn't he?"

Squall didn't answer.

"He must've been in his thirties. He was married here, you can see his ring," Cloud stated pointedly, trying to calm Squall down, but the boy was still tense. Exhaling smoothly, a faint smile pulled at his lips before he lowered his head and bopped his forehead against Squall's good-naturedly.

"Though I don't condone your snooping through other people's things," he paused, raising a fine brow. "It's normal that you want to know more about the people around you. And Cid doesn't really tell you what you'd really like to know, so I'll let you off this time," Cloud chided softly, pulling away and running his hand through the boy's soft hair. Squall's eyes drooped a little and he leaned up into Cloud's touch, savouring the forgiveness in his pampering before he returned his attention to the pictures.

"How did you find these, anyway?" the blond asked noncommittally, gaze on the photographs as he pulled the top photo off and slid it to the bottom of the pile in his hands. Squall nodded briefly before pointing to the open cabinet, Cloud's eyes sliding from the photographs in his hand to the small, wooden furniture.

Gingerly, he gave the photos a final, lingering gaze before dropping them neatly into the packet – eyeing the letters suspiciously – sliding them into place on its proper shelf before closing the heavy wooden doors firmly.

He got to his feet, pulling Squall up in the process before finally taking a good look at the boy.

"Did you fall over on the way here? It doesn't look like you've gone to the toilet already."

At that, Squall felt his face aflame. He immediately lowered his head, looking away in embarrassment. There was a soft chuckle, hearty and light, and Squall felt Cloud grasp his hand before pulling the boy towards the kitchen. His small fingers automatically curled around Cloud's pinkie, lacing their fingers together as firmly as was possible as he followed the teenager faithfully until they reached a white, sterile bathroom.

Cloud allowed the boy some modesty and allowed Squall to use the 'potty' on his own first, entering the toilet once he heard a flush. Squall stood and looked up at him expectantly, Cloud squatting over once again and this time scanning the boy's soiled knees. He lowered the lid of the toilet seat and made Squall sit on it, grabbing a small washcloth and soaking it with warm water from a nearby tap before gently dabbing Squall's injuries.

He wiped away the mud and grass, firm in his gentleness, and whenever Squall winced when he pressed deeply into a particularly sharp cut, Cloud would look up at him and smile that ghost of a smile of his in reassurance.

Squall would quieten faster than usual.

Cloud cleaned him up without incident, Squall remaining that good, silent child as he usually did throughout that moment in time. When they were done, Cloud had gingerly pressed some waterproof bandaids to his cuts and bruises, gently ruffling his hair. He took Squall by the hand and they walked out into the sun, back towards Cid, who had at that moment taken it upon himself to unveil dessert.

The aged man caught a glimpse of them on the path and gave them a jovial wave.

Gazing at the mechanic from some ways away on the dirt path that lead to their shade beneath the apple tree, Squall felt something melancholic grip his heart at the sight of the man – alone, under a fruit tree in full bloom – pottering about for the people around him when he did not receive anything in return.

Squall's grasp on Cloud's hand tightened, and he leaned into the teenager, briefly burying his head into Cloud's calf before Cloud's quiet enquiries of his health made him stand a little straighter, shaking his head in response and murmuring a soft, "I'm fine."

Cloud remained still, and warily, Squall looked up, eyes locked in the blond's gentile gaze. He stayed that way for a moment before, slowly, eventually, he nodded his head at Cloud, reaffirming that he was fine. Convinced, Cloud smiled at him before giving his small hand a tight squeeze and setting down the path once again.

As they walked towards Cid, Squall found that he didn't want to let go of Cloud's warm hand.

**xxx**

"No."

The expressions and airs that hung and lingered over the three of them were amusing, to say the least. The usually pleased and entertained mirth that constantly filled one blond had been replaced by frustration and exasperation to near despondency, his normally content temperament now exhibited clearly on the other blond, who was grinning toothily at everything, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

It was all so absurd.

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Squall. . ."

"No."

His reply was stubborn and firm, unyielding. Arms crossed, he pouted angrily at the pair, his glower dangerously trained on Cloud.

A quiet sigh.

"Really, it's completely fine. It's warm and sha-"

"_No._"

The response this time was indignant and a touch incredulous, as though disbelieving of Cloud's persistence. He was not going to give in. He was _not_ going to listen to Cloud. He had his principles, and damn it all to hell if he didn't stand by them resolutely even with this body. Nobody told him what to do.

Not even Cloud.

Never mind the fact that he had been obediently following all of Cloud's orders for the past week but. . .

No. Never mind. Ignore that.

Nobody told him what to do, period.

"Why not?" Cloud eventually asked after a long silence, sighing dejectedly, his expression a tad worn at the child's obstinacy.

"I don't want to."

There, simple and easy.

"Don't you even want to _try_?"

There was a slight pause, but the answer was as clear as daylight.

"No."

Defeated, Cloud sighed, eyeing the small brunet briefly before he nodded in understanding and proceeded to pull his shirt off over his head, flinging it at the boy's face. Squall quickly pulled it off him and glared sharply at the teenager, but Cloud had already turned around and so he was unable to see it.

Frowning, Squall grasped the shirt in his hands and slowly began to fold it, patting out the creases before letting it drop on top of Cloud' jacket on the ground. He looked around, feeling a little bored before he settled on watching Cloud as he did whatever it was he did.

A gruff clearing of the throat.

Rolling his eyes, Squall turned to eye Cid, who had on a very interesting expression though the sight of it made the boy feel even more tired than he already was. He exhaled huffily, raising his eyebrows at the man in hopes that he would quickly say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"You don't know how to or something?"

Squall's glare intensified.

Cid could only smirk wickedly.

"You should learn from Spike over there. He's pretty damn good at it, if I do say so myself."

With grace that Squall did not know Cid could possess, the aged blond man swiftly got to his feet and had already had both hands gripping the boy firmly, one arm curling around Squall's stomach and raising him up horizontally on his side so that he was completely lopsided.

An expression of pure terror crossed Squall's features.

"_No_," he started incredulously, wanting nothing more than to whisper, 'You _wouldn't_.'

But Cid _would_. And _then_ some.

Everything happened in a matter of a few seconds. And then it was all over. Or, more appropriately, that's when it really began.

The sky and earth were spinning, rolling around in his line of sight as a startled cry left his lips, mingling with dread and panic. He flailed his arms and kicked roughly, forgetting to brace his body for the impact as he managed the briefest glimpse of a horror-struck Cloud, his blue eyes widened in shocked worry.

And then he plunged in.

A garbled sound caught in his throat as he squeezed his eyes shut, air draining his lungs and making him flail even more desperately than ever as his clothes grew heavier and pulled him down deeper. Squall was being pulled away, farther and farther away, until he couldn't see Cid anymore. He kept struggling, kept fighting until his limbs began to tire and sear with a numb ache, lids fluttering open by a margin as he felt the tears well up in his eyes.

An instant later, it was all over.

Squall broke the surface and choked, greedily sucking in air in harsh pants as his small, shaking arms curled tightly around Cloud's neck with a vice grip, the boy pressing his cheek against the teenager's ear as he trembled, a small whimper escaping him.

Cloud had both muscular arms wrapped securely around Squall's petite body, holding him close and rocking him back and forth, whispering reassurance gently as he patted Squall's back in an attempt to calm him down.

The water was deep where the currents had managed to pull Squall, and it sloshed around them with the rushing rapids at Cloud's shoulder-level.

The blond teenager was barking something or the other hotly at the man on the riverbank, but anything that he heard barely registered in his mind as Squall clung tighter to Cloud, body still shaking and heart still hammering violently in his chest. Try as he might, he could not calm himself down, couldn't tell himself that he was being scared for nothing, because his body was still shaking, and all he could do was tighten his arms around Cloud's neck and pray that he wouldn't be let go.

Soothingly, Cloud hoisted Squall up a little, nuzzling his nose in the boy's now-wet hair as he continued to whisper over and over again that he was there and nothing would happen to the boy.

Squall forced himself to listen and obey Cloud's voice, told himself to stop worrying and to calm down. The smooth, warm breath that caressed his skin made him shiver a little, the wispy scent of soap washing over him coaxingly, gradually relaxing him. His quickened breathing had soon slowed, becoming drawn out, and eventually, Squall's eyes slipped closed, the boy leaning his head forward by a little a leaning against Cloud, his arms still tightly wound around the blond.

". . . can you swim?" Cloud asked him softly, his voice a sweeping whisper, barely carrying over the breeze, nursing him gently.

Slowly, very slowly, Squall shook his head, face still buried in the crook of Cloud's neck. The blond allowed a small smile to spread across his lips as he looked down affectionately at the boy.

"Do you want me to teach you how?" he asked kindly, raising a hand and resting it in Squall's hair. Squall shook his head again, shivering a little from the cold. He shifted a little, pulling himself closer to the blond.

Musing, Cloud hummed softly, rocking the boy gently back and forth.

"I used to be part of my school's swim team, you know," Cloud's soft voice appeased him. "I represented the state and won quite a few trophies."

Squall couldn't miss that swell of pride in Cloud's even if he tried. It resonated with his entire being – the molten blue of his eyes, the healthy tan of his skin, the golden lustre of his spikes, the firmly toned muscles framing his body.

Even so, Squall couldn't help but notice the bitter resentment that tinged the teenager's voice, reflected clearly in his eyes as he pulled away slightly, chin on the blond's shoulder, but eyes darting upwards to look at Cloud. He had expected to meet Cloud's gaze and to maybe receive a soft smile in return, but Cloud's eyes had taken on that hazy, glazed over look once again, the teenager staring off into the distance, buried deeply in his thoughts and recollections. A long moment passed before he finally parted his lips to speak.

"After we moved here from Wutai. . . I didn't have any friends and I had gotten a little sick. Believe it or not, I used to be much scrawnier than you are when I was your age."

Cloud had smiled briefly at that, glancing at Squall with more than a little affection before his gaze returned to that point faraway in the distance, lost somewhere in his past.

"I was really quiet, so I got picked on a lot when I started to go to school. Come to think of it, I still am."

Squall felt a flicker of hurt and regret overwhelm him for a split second.

"One of the teacher's took pity on me and made me join the swimming club. I was left out a lot, though. I couldn't do anything right, couldn't even float properly," Cloud chortled quietly at that, the image in his mind so emblazoned into his memory. "No one wanted to teach me, and I just didn't know how to swim."

His voice was so quiet, Cloud had barely heard it at first. But he did.

And his gaze slid downwards, resting on the boy, a full smile on his lips again.

"What was that?"

Squall felt that he probably should have been a little indignant, maybe mutter something quiet and ask to be brought back to shore, but instead, he tipped his head back a little and gazed steadily at Cloud. His eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed, the droplets clinging onto his lashes mingling and smoothly rolling down his cheek, melding with the water dampening his soft, white face. He was suspended, and with Cloud's voice and at Cloud's request, he made himself focus not on the fact that his feet did not touch anything solid, but at the story Cloud was telling him to get his mind off the fear ravaging him.

Slowly, Squall's grey eyes slid open again, gaze tender and clearer than it had ever been, reflecting his emotions.

That feeling stirring inside him, he knew what it was.

He had half-expected his heart to thunder with this new surge of emotion, but instead, he found that he was completely cool, eyes steady and disposition now more languid than it had been mere moments before.

"What made it better?" he asked again, a little louder, a little more confidently this time.

Cloud's smile on him widened, expression softening. He felt something warm cloud his thoughts, making him feel a little light-headed, but only a little.

"Well," Cloud began softly. "I apparently had a cousin staying here that I haven't met before. He was in the swim team, one of the seniors, and took me under his wing. He's the first real. . . friend I ever really had."

By then, Cloud's gaze had grown downcast and hazy again, as though tears threatened to spill. His voice had alleviated into a barely audible whisper.

"We were really close. I miss him."

Squall's eyes drooped slightly, leaning against the teenager once again, settling comfortably in his arms.

". . . what's his name?"

He could feel that smile on him once again. That small, shy, bitter smile. The smile that made him happy and sad at the same time, because it was beautiful, delicate, and heart wrenching. Like a desolate sketch of bereavement that marred the golden rust of autumn. Like the blank whiteness of winter that fell softly on the earth, covering everything in the quiet shade of a serene white only to hide the dried, cracked branches of dead trees.

"His name's Zack."

He could feel it. Squall could feel it. Emotions weren't overflowing in him alone; Cloud was feeling the overwhelming rush of feelings constricting his chest and picking away at him with the intensity of the breaking waves crashing into a golden shore.

"He. . . he always made me happy. He always wanted me to be happy. He used to take me around town, and we'd just. . . hang out and have fun." There was a hint of a laugh in Cloud's voice, but Squall couldn't be sure. He merely nodded, face still buried in Cloud's shoulder.

"He trained me really well. We used to race, right here in this river, until I got much better than some of the other regulars. I got into the actual team, and I never looked back. Not once. The people who picked on me eventually stopped, for the most part. It was. . . it felt good, to be at least a little respected. To have a sense of self-worth."

Cloud paused, a hand moving up and running through Squall's hair.

"One day, he had to go away. I was sort of by myself again, and that was fine. But. . . well, when he left. . . I had to quit the swim team. I haven't jumped into some water for a bit, but I'm still pretty okay. I could. . . I could teach you, so that you can swim by yourself too," Cloud ended, his voice tinged with a touch of hesitancy.

A warm, swift breeze billowed through, whispering across the surface of the river, the smooth whistling mingling with the gentle rush of the river rapids. The silence that stretched between them was long, so long that Cloud gave up any hope for an answer. He leaned forward a little, an arm curling firmly around Squall's body as his other arm made a powerful sweep through the water, his legs kicking and propelling him forwards.

There it was again, and this time, Cloud had almost _not_ heard Squall.

"I don't want to swim by myself."

The teenager paused abruptly, glancing at the boy in surprise who only blinked in return, hands still nimbly wound around his neck, though they had loosened comfortably.

"Why did you quit?" Squall asked instead, his tone light, yet insistent.

Cloud remained silent, thoughts an intricately disorganized swirl in his mind as he pondered Squall's sudden loquaciousness and the answer he found himself a little less than inclined to give the boy. He knew that he should tell the boy, let him be free of any doubts that plagued his mind, but. . . he didn't want the confusion addle the boy's mind. He didn't have to know. Not yet, at least.

". . ." his breath hitched at first, but slowly, the words came to him, forming with utmost care on his lips. ". . . I had to quit because. . . Mum lost her job. I had to stop all my extra-curricular activities to help her earn some money."

At that moment, something roused inside him – a cold, wispy shot of air – and it slowly gnawed at him, hewing away at that warmth that Squall had filled him with ever since the boy stepped into his life. His arms wrapped around Squall, squeezing the boy gently as he embraced the child, burying his face in the boy's hair, his blue eyes squeezed shut – as though asking for forgiveness, reconciliation.

Squall's own eyes fluttered shut in acquiescence, arms tightening around Cloud as well this time, that warmth flickering through him, gurgling happily in his stomach, spreading to the very tips of his fingers.

In the back of his mind, Squall wondered if this would be what it felt like to have a brother.

And if it did, Squall decided that he wouldn't have wanted anyone else to fill that role in.

**xxx**

Squall was warm, a large, thin jacket – Cloud's – serving as a blanket for him as he laid the side of his head on the blond's lap, eyes gazing up dully at the screen of the television. They were back at home, having returned only a few hours before after getting hosed down by Cid in the garden.

Upon arrival at their own house, Cloud and Squall had both respectively retreated to the bathrooms and showered themselves off with hot water. Cloud took a little longer since he was bigger, and hence needed to use more water, so meanwhile, Squall had made his way to the kitchen to fix himself a sandwich.

Unfortunately, Squall was about a few inches shorter than the shelf in the refrigerator that stored the cold cuts. No amount of hopping or stretching would help, as it had with his attempts to grab at the photo albums in the study only a few days before. His stomach was starting to rumble agitatedly, and he couldn't very well ignore its pleas for edible and tasty substances to digest. And so, without much else to distract him with, Squall was forced to resort to desperate measures.

He glanced sideways discreetly before setting off to complete his mission.

When Cloud entered the kitchen, the teenager had to bite down on his lower lip to keep the laughter from spilling out.

Cloud had arrived much quicker than Squall had anticipated (he had, in all honesty, thought that the teenager would have taken ages to shampoo and style his hair) and the mere sight of the blond had startled Squall so thoroughly that he had lost his balance, nearly toppling to the floor but grabbing the backrest of the chair he had been tiptoeing on to keep him on his feet and his face away from the hard parquet.

After a good-natured chastise about chairs being used to sit on as opposed to being stood upon, Cloud had shooed him to the living room to watch some television while he made them something to eat. A little cold, Squall managed to fish around for Cloud's jacket and proceeded to wrap it around himself, plopping unceremoniously on the couch as he began to channel surf.

Cloud had arrived shortly after, in his hand a tray carrying a large plate of hotdogs and two oversized glasses alongside a jug of deep red-purple liquid, ice clanking around in it, sloshing the juice about.

They had been sitting in a rather lazy position, but soon enough, Squall had gotten a little more boneless and had tilted to the side, leaning against the blond. Gently, Cloud hoisted Squall up a little and allowed the boy to lie down on his lap, a hand resting in the boy's hair and stroking it softly.

They continued to waste away an hour or two like this, watching TV and occasionally popping a fish finger or two in their mouths. Squall felt strangely satiated at the prospect of lounging around the house like an utter slob, if it meant that he could do so with Cloud. It seemed all the more enjoyable to have someone to join in and share the fun. Cloud's lap was really, really comfortable. . . he felt like he could sleep forever in that position. Eyes already fluttering, Squall let out a small yawn, nuzzling the teenager's thigh a little before nestling himself under the jacket and curling up.

Naturally, when Cloud leaned over to pick up his ringing cellular phone, it had irritated Squall by a marginal degree.

The teenager took special measure in keeping his voice low, quiet, but Squall managed to catch bits and pieces of the conversation anyways. Even so, nothing registered in his mind as he felt Cloud's smile on him again – this time completely content. His nimble fingers were threading the brunet's hair again, massaging his scalp gently as he ended the call and reached for the remote control, lowering the volume of the television.

For the very first time, Squall fell asleep with a smile on his face. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 06  
Words: 9 508  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): CL (if you _want_), eventual LC  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute :D;;  
Rated: R

* * *

Squall was engulfed in warmth. 

The comforter had been wrapped around him, folded in a touch so that he was completely bundled in a tangle of blankets. He curled up slightly in his cocoon, sleepily bringing both hands to his face as his hot breath gusted gently upon the tender skin of his palms, warming his chilled nose in the process.

Hazily, he barely registered the tilting of the mattress as something big and heavy weighed down on it. He rolled a little to his left with the weight, cheek bumping against a cold pillow and nose pressed into his hands. At the instance of a sudden yet light – fleeting, almost – pressure against his cheek, the brunet let out a half-hearted, drowsy murmur. Lashes fluttering a little, he could barely make out the silhouette of the person tousling his hair as light invaded his line of sight.

He closed his eyes again, letting out a vaguely irritated sound as he batted at the hand toying with a lock of his sleep-mussed brown hair. Unbeknownst to him, his lower lip had jutted out almost sleepily in protest, eyebrows furrowing as that hand playfully tickled his ear.

Muffled footfalls stifled through the door, the sound of shuffling feet against the carpeted floor slowly processing in his mind as he attempted, with much futility, to gather enough energy to wake up. A low, husky voice whispered in his ear, the breath of the person overhead caressing his skin and causing him to shrug away instinctively from the ticklish sensation. He still wasn't hearing everything all too proper, so it took a while before he strained his ears and managed to string together the words that baritone voice was murmuring in his ear.

"Hey, Tiger. Rise and shine there, buddy. Time to wake up."

Squall let out a soft groan, nuzzling into the pillow and nestling himself under the blankets. He could hear a breathy chuckle, the weight on the bed shifting slightly before the person raked his long fingers through the boy's hair, ruffling it gently.

Squall leaned upwards into that warm touch, a faint smile ghosting across his lips at the affectionate gesture. He let out a long, drawn out yawn, wetting his lips before he dropped back onto his pillow.

A snort.

"Heh, aren't you a stubborn lil' Tiger?"

Squall was about to wake up and frown indignantly at that nickname when another voice intruded, tone tinged with a hint of exasperation and amusement.

"What are you doing to Squall?"

Squall felt rather than heard the hearty laughter of the person sitting on the bed, and at the strangely foreign, strangely deep voice, he opened his eyes almost immediately, mind clearing of the haze, vision blurry for a brief moment as his eyes slowly slid into focus.

"Cute kid. Sure he's a Squall?"

That wasn't Cloud.

The fainter voice chortled softly, footsteps getting louder as the second person approached them.

"Let him sleep, Zack."

Squall blinked rapidly, rubbing away the drowsiness with a curled fist as he turned to stare at the stranger sitting at the edge of the bed. He had strikingly dark eyes that seemed to drown you in its cool, black depths, a hint of a twinkle shimmering in them as he smiled. His hair was combed back haphazardly in an almost boyishly attractive manner, a slight dimple visible but outshone by the brilliance of his grin.

This man was visibly older, stockier than Cloud. His hands were firm and a little rough; skin a golden rust of tanned bronze. His muscular arms were visible even underneath the loose black t-shirt he wore, his long, supple legs stretching under the denim of his jeans as one crossed over the other. He sat at a slight angle, turning back to face his host.

. . . Who the hell?

"The kids are awake and they wanna meet 'im. Can't stay in bed and miss a beautiful day out, Spike."

Cloud shot Zack a reproachful look, lips twisted into a small frown. Shrugging slightly, the blond's gaze averted to the ruffled boy in bed beside his friend, grey eyes widened in bewilderment and hair sticking out at odd angles from sleep and Zack's playful hand. Exhaling smoothly, a hint of a smile graced his lips as Cloud approached them.

He gently shoved Zack to the side to make room for him to sit, hand already raking through Squall's hair and smoothening out the mess as he spoke in his soft voice.

"Squall, this is my friend, Zack. He came here all the way from Midgar to meet you."

"Nice to meetcha, kid," Zack quipped with a wide grin. "Spike here's been talking about you non-stop on the phone, so I wanted to see you for myself."

Squall blinked once. Turned to stare at Cloud.

"Get dressed," Cloud merely said, tone indifferent. He stood up, picking up a pillow that had dropped to the ground and fluffed it slightly before setting it on the bed. He left them, shooting Zack a final, pointed glance. Zack got to his feet, giving Squall a light punch on his cheek and another grin before rushing out of the room and down the hall behind Cloud.

Squall blinked again.

What the hell?

Zack. That name was familiar. Where had he heard it before. . .

"Hey there!"

Squall blinked again, gaze dropping dumbly and landing on the rather short source of sound.

He wondered, vaguely, if he was still asleep.

"You must be Squall, right? Zack and Cloud have been going on and on about you! I'm so excited to meet you finally!"

He stared at the girl, with her shining brown eyes, her sweet grin, her tender dimples, and her straight brown hair combed back neatly in a pink bow. Her hands were folded behind her back, thighs pressed up against the side of the bed as her stomach upwards leaned over the squashy mattress.

Uncertain, Squall remained unresponsive, taking only to staring dumbly at this strange person.

The girl paused momentarily, eyes lighting up in realization as she covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a slight giggle.

"Silly me, I forgot to introduce myself!" She stuck that same hand out to the boy, apparently for him to shake. "My name's Marlene!"

Squall blinked again, eyes resting on that outstretched hand. Marlene stayed in that position patiently enough, that bubbly grin of hers unwavering as he wracked his brain for coherency. However, all that came out was, "Uhh. . ."

"That all you can say? How pathetic. Don't know what Cloud sees in a dweeb like you," a slightly deeper, brusquer voice interjected rather haughtily. A little dazed, Squall turned to face a short, rosy-cheeked blond boy in the doorway. The newcomer had both hands on his hips and was scrutinizing the dark-haired boy with narrowed eyes.

"Seifer! Don't be mean! You haven't even spoken to Squall yet!" Marlene protested hotly, puffing her cheeks out childishly and crossing her arms at the boy – Seifer.

His mouth twitched slightly, and he in turn took on a rather defensive position as he averted his glare to the girl. Squall almost shuddered from the electricity that was jolting menacingly through the air between the two, Marlene herself taking on a less than sweet disposition, her expression darkening as she frowned at Seifer.

And then someone whacked Seifer upside the head.

Just like that, the tension in the room dissolved.

"Behave yourselves, you two. We're guests," a good-natured voice remarked with a slight laugh. A taller, thinner boy with wavy brown hair came into the view. He shuffled into the room, giving the blond a friendly nudge as he approached the bed. He took one of Marlene's hands and squeezed it affectionately, causing the girl to inhale deeply and to turn away from the blond with an upset pout. Seifer opted to glower at the opposite wall.

"The name's Denzel," he grinned, ignoring the exchange occurring between the other two. "And that idiot there is Seifer. You're Squall, aren't you?"

Warily, Squall glanced around the room at the three.

What. The. Hell.

**xxx**

His mood was not good. Not good at all.

Even the merry crackling of oil, and the fragrant aroma of beef bacon on the stove was doing nothing to console him. Even Cloud's soft-spoken reassurances about the unannounced guests being a rather nice lot didn't budge him one bit.

He glowered at the plate of steaming breakfast that was set before him, noting rather bitterly that their 'guests' too were each pilfering the food Cloud was making. Damn them. They were happily making conversation, chatting about trivial news and new things involving them. Letting out an irritated huff of air, Squall began stabbing his bacon with fork, mashing up the fried potatoes mercilessly as his lips twisted into a deep frown, the young brunet's eyebrows furrowed together angrily. He tuned out conversation as completely as he could, eyes never straying from his plate.

"So how old are you, kid?" Zack asked with good humour, his friendly grin already spread wide across his lips. Squall didn't respond, either choosing not to or ignoring the oldest guest. As a slightly awkward silence stretched out at the table, Zack cleared his throat, plying on another grin as he attempted to gage a response from the boy.

"Uh, you been with Spike long? Cloud, I mean. You kept count, right?"

Silence. More stabbing of the bacon.

Marlene and Denzel exchanged glances wearily.

Cloud came to the rescue, his hand already raking affectionately through Squall's hair as he patted the boy's head. "Squall is about 6, and he's been living with me for nearly 2 weeks." The blond raised his gaze, his expression solemn. "Had to rescue him from Yuffie."

Zack, Marlene and Denzel laughed knowingly, the oldest man who was sitting down slapping a hand against his knee, his eyes twinkling merrily. "She must have driven you mad, eh, Squall?"

More silence. More potatoes being pulverized into a small mountain.

"He had a slight reaction to all the cat hair. Yuffie isn't the best when it comes to children," Cloud replied once again, his hand withdrawn from Squall's hair, but resting on one of his shoulder's, squeezing it slightly, almost coaxingly. "Isn't that right, Squall?"

The boy merely grunted in response.

Seifer was eyeing Squall with narrowed eyes, his lips pressed together firmly in distaste. His bright green eyes wandered from the horrible boy, down to the food on his plate. How could Cloud _like_ such a beastly kid? Just look at the way he treated the food Cloud had so painstakingly made for him! Not only did he have an attitude problem, he was a wasteful little brat! Terrible, simply terrible.

"So, uh," Zack attempted a little sheepishly, scratching his head. "So you and Cloud are pretty close, eh?" Squall looked up at Zack, an eyebrow raised.

It was a little progress.

"Th-That's good!" Zack gushed, finally feeling like he was getting somewhere with the kid, his spirits lifting. "You guys go out together a lot? Like, shopping or camping and stuff? Where d'you go?"

Squall kept his eye contact with Zack steady before lowering his head once again, returning to the murder of his breakfast.

The hush that followed was almost eerie, Denzel coughing uncomfortably at Zack's crestfallen expression.

"Cloud," Seifer piped up after a while. "Your food is really, really good. I could eat it forever and never get sick of it."

Cloud's gaze averted to the blond boy, his expression softening fondly before he quirked a brow. "If that is supposed to mean that you want seconds. . ."

"Can't I?" he asked, his face falling a touch, eyes widening and lips jutting out in a miniscule pout. Seifer sighed softly, pushing his now-empty plate away, sinking in his chair. "That's fine. But I'd always finish off anything _you_ cook. I mean, only pigs would waste your food."

There was a sort of contemplative pause that filled the room, a beat of silence coming to pass before all eyes slowly turned to look at Squall, their uncertain gazes lingering on the boy before shifting in the general direction of the. . . rather unappetizing mound of food on his plate, and then to the bits of squashed up beef sticking to some mashed carrots that were speared on his fork.

Squall's glare was sharp and piercing, and as the connotation finally clicked, he slowly turned to glower violently – compacting all his fury and vehemence into that one, livid look – at the smug blond boy who was, taking the advantage of everyone's distraction, smirking rather conceitedly at the young brunet.

This meant _war_.

Cloud, keen to sense the heavy (and albeit murderous) tension clashing between the pair, was quick to attempt to diffuse the situation. "Squall and I had a rather long day at Cid's yesterday," he explained dutifully, defending the young boy once again. "He and I don't have too much of an appetite today, unfortunately." He gave Squall's shoulder another squeeze, this one affectionate.

Squall shot Seifer another glare at that. _How'd you like that?_

The boy merely narrowed his green eyes in return, the corners of his lips twitching.

"And that can be cured with some pigging out!" Zack interjected cheerily, oblivious to, or rather, _choosing_ to remain oblivious to the exchanges between Seifer and Squall. They could sort things out. He wasn't about to get involved in World War III. The things kids could achieve when properly riled were. . . far too disturbing for words. They had to receive _some_ credit to their overactive imaginations.

"Pigging out," Denzel echoed in a somewhat bland tone with a touch of inquisitiveness, his expression thoroughly amused. Exchanging knowing glances with Marlene, both of them broke into wide grins and ran up to Cloud, tugging at the hem of his shirt and arms gently, yet insistently. They spoke excitedly, all at the same time. Even Seifer jumped off his chair and begun to harass the blond.

Cloud, however, was completely neutral and indifferent to this sudden ambush – a great contrast to the incredulity that was apparent on Squall's face. No, Cloud was completely cool and unfazed by the children's antics. Instead, his gaze falling on Zack rather levelly, Cloud's eyebrows raised derisively, tone dripping with sarcasm but somehow still a touch warm.

"I hate you."

"Aww," Zack responded, his grin gaining a mischievous quality. "But you can't live without me. I love you, Spikey." He laughed rather heartily at that, flashing the blond teenager a knowing smile. "You love me too, right, dear cousin?"

"Yeah, sure," Cloud mumbled absentmindedly in response, attempting to calm the children dancing around his feet down. With a somewhat satisfied nod, Zack leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms and smiling tenderly at the other teenager. A small, elated grin played on his lips almost drunkenly.

Squall eyed Zack suspiciously at that, a thin frown pulling his lips downwards.

Zack wasn't. . . that- you know- _gay_ was he?

Quietly, the small brunet observed with much disparagement as the raven-haired man got to his feet and sauntered over to the blond, curling a strong arm around his neck as he leaned into Cloud, whispering lowly into his ear, his other hand ruffling Seifer's hair fondly.

Cloud didn't seem in the least uncomfortable. In fact, it looked as though he was completely used to all of that and more. To an extent – even if it wasn't really evident to others – it looked like Cloud was enjoying all that attention.

Something seemed to stir inside Squall at that, and he found himself gazing wistfully, listlessly at that jubilant scene.

Cloud, from what Squall had discovered during their time together, had been forced to grow up too fast. He was doing all sorts of things his peers were incapable of, sacrificing so much for the sake of those that he loved for their happiness. Cloud kept such a low profile among the community that he was generally ignored, but it didn't matter to him because he had given up on his social life that day he quit the swim team, regardless of the excuses he materialized in his defence.

So now, when Squall found out about this 'other half' of Cloud, when he discovered how close all these people seemed and how important they all were to Cloud, it seemed like. . . like everything he _prided_ himself in knowing of the blond had been reduced to nil. From the closeness and the affection between these people and the teenager, it was obvious that their past involved much strain that brought them all together.

It was nice, to see Cloud happy.

But Squall felt like he was. . . intruding. Like he didn't really belong in this house and with them. It was heart wrenching to see the disappointed look on the blond's face each time Squall said or did something that wasn't warm to these important people, and he could easily tell that the others, likewise, weren't too keen on his arrival. It couldn't be helped that Squall disliked new people and new things, but he knew that he should have at least tried to be polite to the guests. He felt like he was keeping Cloud from being completely happy, like he was the useless third wheel.

Like he was unwanted.

_Unwanted_. . . that word was bitter and unwelcome, and Squall disliked it immensely. After all, it was obvious that the others didn't like him – or, more specifically, his attitude – and he was just. . . he shouldn't. . . it was wrong for him to be there.

In that instance, he felt immeasurably homesick. He wanted to be Leon again. He wanted to be with his dad, eating pretzels in front of their old television set, listening to the old man ramble about inane and trivial topics. He wanted to be harassed by Yuffie and her dog, Angelo. He wanted to be 17 years old. He wanted to hang out with his friends from school.

He wanted to feel _ wanted_ again.

Quietly, Squall slipped out of his chair, walking soundlessly out of the dining room and past the living room into the corridor. Upon reaching the study, he curled his fingers around the knob loosely, pausing before entering and shutting it behind him with a firm, silent 'click'.

Squall leaned against the door, letting out a soft, miserable sigh before casting the room a weary gaze. In his frequented corner, the pile of books he had set aside were still arranged in their organized chaos, a handful of them left open at certain pages while others were bookmarked with strips of paper.

As the boy began to slowly approach them, his eyes strayed and caught a glimpse of a discarded, thin, tattered hardcover that was lying all alone under a wooden chair. Giving the book a lingering look, Squall exhaled smoothly walking towards it and picking it up in a fluid motion. He scrubbed away the dust from the cover and spine, scanning the title before realizing what it was.

Uneasily, Squall contemplated returning the book to its lonely location under the chair or sliding it in a shelf to be forgotten. The latter seemed more desirable an action – it would stand out less – and so the brunet pried apart two firmly packed books from a low shelf, stuffing the book in, rearranging them neatly before standing up straight once again.

Dropping down in his corner, he reached for the closest book, flipping to the marked page and glancing at the words before his vision blurred out of focus. Squall tried a few more times to read the first few lines of the book but eventually gave up, shutting it with a heavy sigh and setting it down beside him.

He hadn't the mood. To do anything at all.

Miserably, Squall pulled his legs against his body, burying his face in his knees. He wanted to go home. . .

"Squall?"

The boy had jumped a little as he felt that warm hand touch the back of his neck, rubbing his back soothingly. Squall lifted his head a little; grey eyes homing in on Cloud's worried blue ones.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think about how you would feel if I asked them to come and make friends with you. You're not ready to meet new people yet, are you?" he asked in that soft voice of his, his tone gentle and apologetic.

Squall couldn't help but stare.

At that moment, he just looked at Cloud. _Really_ looked at him.

Did the teenager just _apologise_ to _him_? He had been absolutely horrible to Cloud's most important people, and here he was, saying that he was sorry for bringing them and actually trying to _console_ him and. . . this was. . .

"I thought maybe you were a little tired of me," Cloud told him with a small, almost shy smile. "That you'd like some new friends your own age. It must be lonely, hanging out with someone like me."

That was like a slap to the face.

What?

"I'm not!" Squall suddenly blurted, his voice heavy with desperation as he looked up insistently, searchingly at the blond. "I'm not tired of you! I'm not lonely! I don't want you to dump me with anyone else! I'm. . ." His breath hitched, chest suddenly tight, voice faltering. A little taken aback, Cloud remained silent, dumbfounded as the boy spoke to him. In an encouraging manner, he rubbed Squall's back, trying to coax the words out of him.

"I'm. . ." he paused, holding Cloud's gaze a moment longer before he lowered his head ruefully. "I'm. . . tired." _Of everything_. He hugged his knees once again, eyes squeezed shut as he pressed his face against his hands. ". . .I want my dad. . . I want to go home."

The silence in the room lingered on, Cloud's breaths rolling out calmly in time with the distant ticking of the clock. Slowly, that warm hand on his back crept to his side, a strong arm curling around his body completely as Cloud engulfed him in a tight hug, his own face buried against Squall's cheek.

Squall sobbed. Outright. He couldn't help it. He was miserable and insecure and depressed, and Cloud's constant patience and affection was making him feel melancholic and desperate for his own life again. He was sick and tired of being a child, exhausted with the rapid changes in his body system and thinking patterns. _Was he going to stay this way forever?_

For the first and last time, Squall finally broke down and cried in front of Cloud.

And Cloud was there to comfort him, trying to somehow hold back that single tear that managed to roll down his cheek anyway.

**xxx**

". . . some time. . ."

". . . I don't know. It doesn't seem like such a good idea anymore. . ."

". . . up to him, don't worry about. . ."

". . . not that, it's just. . . I'm afraid. . ."

". . . take it easy. . . try not to think. . . matter of time. . ."

". . . it's not that. . . I don't think _I_ want to. . ."

Squall tried his best to ignore those low, muffled voices but it was hard. It was very, very hard to not eavesdrop on the blond teenager and his older friend, whom the boy seriously doubted had dropped by for a merely social visit. The brunet forced himself to keep his attention completely focused on putting the crockery in the sink and returning the jug of orange juice to the refrigerator.

Meanwhile, as Squall was straining himself with those self-imposed chores, Denzel, Marlene and Seifer were in the living room, huddling close together as they snuck intermittent glances to this new boy and the pair of grown-ups who were talking outside.

"I think he needs a hug."

Marlene was resolute, her tone deep with conviction as she rested both of her palms against the top of the small coffee table. Seifer snorted at that, eyes averting as a smirk curled at his lips.

"Or a fresh can of whoop-ass."

"I'm serious," she pressed on critically, Marlene throwing the blond boy a poisonous glare. "He looks so sad and gloomy, I think he needs a hug or twenty. Remember what Zack said? Aerith found him on the streets – just like you, poopie-face," to which Seifer responded rather indignantly. "Squall probably doesn't have anyone else in the world but Cloud. . ."

"We know that Cloud and his mum are kinda poor," Denzel continued where Marlene trailed off. "So they won't be able to take care of Squall forever. I dunno, if you ask me, he doesn't seem _too_ bad. . . maybe Seifer just scared his pants off."

"Or maybe he needs to have a little more guts," the blond countered, eyes narrowing into tiny slits at the other two. "He's so pathetic, I don't believe that he's been surviving on his own. I bet you he's been putting in that 'oh, I'm a poor orphan, save me' act so that he can get Cloud to pamper him."

"You don't have any proof!" Marlene retorted crossly. "He doesn't have anyone at all, stupid-head. You have Zack and Cloud and us. Squall's probably sad because he won't be able to stay with Cloud."

"Cloud said that he's shy, so he hasn't made friends yet," Denzel interjected informatively, always the older, more level-headed one of the three. "Maybe if we get him to not be shy, he won't be so sad anymore."

"I think we should dump him in a pool or something," Seifer grumbled irately. "And I'm not a stupid-head, you ugly fatty."

"I AM **NOT** A FA-"

"So you admit you're ugly?"

"WHY YOU ME-"

Some rather terrifying shouting and screaming ensued, followed by the lively thud of many falling objects. Squall poked his head into the living room, obeying Denzel's panicked order to duck in time so much so the paper weight that had threatened his groin merely days before nicked a bit of his hair before crashing into the side of a rubbish bin.

"STUPID OLD GOAT!"

"SMELLY NEWT!"

"NEWTS DON'T SMELL!"

"YOU DO!"

"UGLY OLD POTATO!"

"FAT COW!"

"BIG NOSE!"

"POOPIE-HEAD!"

"BED-WETTER!"

"FISH-FACE!"

"MEANIE!"

"Guys, guys, GUYS!" Denzel attempted, trying to pull Marlene away as she threw an assortment of books and decorative stones murderously at Seifer, who had a hand in the girls once tightly tied hair, messing it up and pulling at it angrily. Desperately, the oldest boy glanced around, catching sight of Squall. ". . . A little help here!"

Dumbly, Squall found himself hurrying to the scene, uncertain of what to do. Denzel gave a pained grunt as he wrapped his arms around Marlene's small waist, trying to drag her away. He jerked his head towards the blond boy, and without even questioning why, Squall had started tugging and pulling at Seifer.

"Let go of me, stupid!" Seifer snapped angrily, trying to shove Squall aside, pushing forward, hands groping blindly as he tried to grip the girl's hair and scratch her. "I said LET GO!"

"LET ME AT HIM!!" Marlene screamed in turn, her fists pounding against Denzel's arms that withheld her. She was shaking her head and kicking wildly, her voice rolling out in angry shrieks as she suddenly lunged forward, successfully freeing herself of Denzel's grip, her unkempt hair a messy tangle. Sprinting towards Squall and Seifer, she began to rain a succession of kicks to Seifer's shin, more than half of them landing on Squall's legs. Squall's eyes began to water, but his grip was firm and he didn't let go of the blond.

Just as Squall's knees began to quiver, he felt all the wind knocked out of him, Seifer landing a well-aimed elbow directly in his side. With a startled cry, the brunet fell backwards, the back of his head slamming against the edge of the coffee table in the process.

Everything seemed hazy, like it was all being played in slow motion. Squall began to tune out all other sounds, only able to hear the sluggish beating of his own heart. As his vision began to slide in and out of focus, head pounding numbly and legs throbbing dully, Squall barely registered the rush of feet through the front door that had been slammed open, his eyes fluttering shut, lips parting slightly to allow a hot gust of breath. He felt a warm hand at the base of his head, massaging gently, the other tugging his body upwards. He sighed at the touch, opening his eyes slowly to find Cloud over him, looking at someone else, expression plagued with worry as his pale lips moved rapidly.

He noticed Zack approaching him, trying to scoop him up, but before Squall could push the raven-haired man away weakly though it would have been, Cloud had his arms wrapped around his small body protectively. The teenager got to his feet, carefully pressing Squall's body against his as his other hand remained stationary at the boy's pulsating scalp.

The next thing he knew, Squall was engulfed in the sterility of white lights and clean tiled walls, the boy quickly seated on something dry and high as the steady gurgle of running water echoed in his ears. Soon, something wet and warm was pressed to the back of his head. Squall could feel the water dripping from what seemed like a rag or towel onto his shirt and down his back, but he was still too dazed to do or say anything.

"Does it hurt?" Cloud's asked him softly, voice filled with. . . fear? No, that wasn't it. Cloud was never afraid. It was probably worry or something. Anxiety. That was probably it. Squall wanted to shake his head in response, but Cloud was still holding that wet rag so that was out of the question. He groaned slightly. "I'm fine," Squall muttered, trying to keep his eyes focused as he squinted up at the blond. "It's a little painful, but I'm not going to die."

There was a brief moment of an incredulous beat of silence before he heard a quiet sigh of what seemed like relief, followed by a lighter chuckle. "That's always good to know," Cloud replied, tone holding something akin to amusement. "You can take it like a man. Impressive. I feel utterly debased and un-macho now."

Squall smiled up at Cloud, his eyes lighting up a touch when the teenager laughed.

"At least you're fine," Cloud told him a little while after, a fond smile curling at his lips as he gazed at the young boy. "Seifer and Marlene, on the other hand. . ." He glanced at the door of the bathroom, allowing his sentence to hang in the air ambiguously. Squall could only guess the damage on the other side. Zack didn't seem like someone who would lose his temper.

"– ABSOLUTELY BEASTLY AND INEXCUSABLE------------ _BLEEDING_ FOR CRYING OUT LOUD------------ _CLOUD'S_ HOUSE AND------------"

Squall winced. What was the saying again – when someone snaps, they snap all the way? Or something akin to that? He couldn't really remember.

Ah, well. Seifer deserved it.

**xxx**

"Upsy-daisy."

Zack hefted up a rather quiet Marlene in his arms, rubbing a soothing hand down her back and smoothening out the creases in the back of her dress as he patted her hair that had been (mercifully) brushed and tied back neatly once again by the raven-haired man himself. Denzel was by his side, clutching onto a loose bit of his jeans. The eldest boy was gazing some ways off rather absentmindedly. They were outside on the sidewalk, beneath an overcast sky.

Squall looked at them quietly, his eyes averting from Zack and Marlene, to Denzel, briefly to Seifer – the boy was staring at the ground, eyes red and puffy, lips twisted into an angry frown – and then up to Cloud who was checking the bandage that was carefully affixed to the nasty cut the coffee table's edge had given him.

"Now," Cloud began, tone a little satisfied. He brushed his hands on his thighs before getting to his feet. "No more playing rough there, got it? Not with Marlene, not with Squall," the blond told Seifer sternly, expression solemn and voice critical. Flushing, Seifer mumbled in acquiescence, turning away and kicking a small pebble.

"Yeah, and you had better," Zack interjected irately. "Anymore funny business from you and you stay with old man Highwind, got it? You stop acting up anymore, or I leave you with Cid."

That must have hit a nerve, for Seifer's eyes had widened at that, whipping his head back to gaze rather disbelievingly at the man. Zack merely knitted his brows together in response, scowling. Weakly, Seifer managed a nod and withdrew timidly to Cloud's side, his head hanging and that bitter frown of his deeper than ever.

At that moment, Squall couldn't help but a feel a little. . . sympathy for the kid. If getting disappointed looks from Cloud already tore at him, Squall couldn't imagine how he would feel if the blond teenager were to shout angrily; scold and rebuke him. He'd probably feel like complete _shit_. And Seifer had gotten the brunt of it from _two_ of what appeared to be his favourite people. Even worse.

Squall blinked out of his thoughts as a few stray leaves swept across the road with the breeze, one or two getting caught in his hair. He batted them away gently, glancing over as he saw Seifer look up at Cloud, both of them exchanging a few quiet words that he couldn't hear. It was followed by a slight smile on Seifer's behalf, and a gentle ruffle of his hair from Cloud.

"Well, then. Let's head off," Zack called out, his hand clasping around Denzel's. Cloud nodded in response, turning and walking over to Squall before he gave the small brunet a quick, tender smile, picking him up fluidly and settling the boy comfortably in his arms. Squall began to shift automatically, grasping a bit of the teenager's shirt and leaning his chin on Cloud's shoulder.

Before they could walk, however, there was a slight tug.

Squall blinked, pulling back a little and following Cloud's gaze.

"What about me?"

Seifer's bright green eyes were big and round, pathetically pleading, his hand curled around the fabric of Cloud's trousers and pulling just slightly. He looked on the brink of tears – Squall thought that it was probably from his crying at Zack's scolding about a half hour before – and those small, soft lips were pressed together in a miniscule pout. He looked almost bewildered, like a small animal caught in headlights, and was gazing up expectantly at Cloud.

Squall's gaze shifted hesitantly to the teenager carrying him.

Uncomfortably, Cloud's own gaze shifted from Seifer, alternating tentatively between Squall and Seifer, meeting both of their wide-eyed stares. This continued on for a moment more before he felt his resolve crumble. At a loss, Cloud glanced at Zack for some kind of solution, but he received a rather cheeky, amused grin instead. He looked at Squall once again. Gave Seifer a sideway glance.

Cloud sighed heavily.

They were _good_.

". . . fine."

Cloud tilted his body to one side, his grip on Squall tightening as his arm curled around the blond boy's body. Seifer's face lit up with happiness, a wide grin of glee breaking out on his face infectiously as he wrapped his arms around Cloud's neck. He seemed on the brink of breaking out into song.

Tucking his chin in the crook of Cloud's neck, he managed to shoot Squall a smug smirk.

Squall frowned in response, his grip tightening unconsciously.

"Dude, are you sure you're okay with that? They look pretty heavy put together," Zack piped up thoughtfully. Cloud shot him a look and shook his head. "No, I mean, if anything, I wouldn't mind carrying Squall. Marlene's pretty light. Are you really, _really_ su-"

"It's fine. Let's go."

Cloud began walking at an even pace, his breath a little laboured as he strained to balance both their weights. Squall looked at Cloud carefully, studying the slight tension that he was attempting to hide from the tightness of his clenched jaw. His arms were quivering very slightly, and he was leaning back a little as he walked – as though trying to stabilize the boys weighing him down.

Tamely, Squall lowered his head and stayed still, trying as best he could to cause less injury on Cloud's behalf.

Seifer, on the other hand, was cuddling the teenager rather happily, nuzzling his face against Cloud's shoulder. Every now and again, his eyes would flutter and he would shoot the brunet boy a warning look, scowling softly before that air of triumph returned. With some measure of irritation, Squall merely frowned in response but did nothing more.

The others were about a pace ahead of them, the boys chatting quietly as Marlene played with Zack's hair. Zack had that amiable grin on his face once again, nodding intermittently as Denzel punctuated whatever point he had been making through gestures he made with his free hand, fingers of his other hand still clasped in the raven-haired man's.

With a startled sound, Denzel stumbled. Marlene's expression conveyed a heavy sense of worry and Zack had stopped walking, pulling Denzel up to his feet swiftly enough so much so the boy was saved from acquainting his face with the sidewalk. A brief moment passed before Zack's low chuckle rumbled through his throat, glancing up and winking at Cloud, head jerking to the side and gesturing for them to keep on ahead. Obediently, Cloud did so, his grip wavering a touch before he tightened his grasp around the two boys, sidestepping Zack and his pair. Denzel had tripped over his shoelaces.

Properly, now that they were ahead and he had the chance to gaze back at this person, Squall took a good look at the man. He had never really noticed it before, but Zack looked like. . .

. . . Squall didn't quite know.

It was very familiar.

Zack's dark eyes held a deep, loving twinkle in them, lips constantly upturned in a sincerely sweet smile, and that unsettlingly familiar gaze of reassurance and protectiveness seemed to wrap a warm blanket of security around Squall whenever Zack winked at him obligingly.

Zack, sturdy and muscular and strong, was just as gentle as Cloud. His touches were tender and affectionate, his ruffling Squall's hair with a doting grin and soft squeeze of his round cheek endearing and comforting to a fault. With Cloud, Squall felt. . . loved. Almost dizzy with happiness, sometimes.

With Zack, on the other hand, Squall felt. . . _protected_. Safe. Like nothing wrong at all could happen.

Zack was. . . he was almost like. . .

. . . Squall didn't know. But it was so very familiar.

"We're here."

Squall was snapped out of his reverie, unaware of his surroundings as he had divulged into his musings. The sky was already streaked with a brilliant orange, rivers of smooth, fluffy clouds hanging overhead, sun on the brink of sinking low beneath the horizon. Blinking, he pulled back a little, glancing at Cloud briefly before his eyes raked the scenery.

Sandbox.

Swings.

Slides.

Seesaws.

. . . someone had to be kidding him.

Squall stared on dumbly, completely horror-stricken. With much difficulty, Cloud bent over and, as carefully as he could manage at that point, set Seifer and Squall on the ground. As the blond teenager stood up straight, there was a sound crack that resonated through his back, Cloud's blue eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he swallowed back the shriek of pain that would have accompanied a string of rather colourful curses by clamping his lips tightly together.

Swiftly, that expression disappeared and replacing it was Cloud's typical neutral and indifferent, though strained, mask.

"Whoa. . . you okay there, Spike?" Zack asked him, worry apparent on his face. "Take it easy, 'kay?"

"I'll be fine, Zack," Cloud replied stiffly, managing a softer expression as he spoke to the kids. "You guys go ahead. We'll be sitting down over here."

"Whaaaaat? You mean you won't play with us?" Marlene pouted pleadingly. "But that's why we came aaaaaaall the way here for!"

"Sweetheart," the raven-haired man interjected with a grin, just as Marlene and Seifer were getting ready to launch an all out attack. "Cloud's getting old. And Seifer isn't exactly light, y'know? And come on. Spikey's tired. Give him a break."

She opened her mouth to retort but stopped herself, looking at Cloud with big, sad eyes, her gaze that of a small, kicked puppy.

"I'll play with you later, okay, Marlene?" Cloud offered, a small smile on his face.

After quick deliberation, a smile lit up on her face and she gave one energetic nod before grinning at the others and pulling them away towards the slides with a giggle. Squall's focus was solely on Cloud, his gaze brimming with worry as the blond winced with pain, bent over to a degree, his other hand trying to straighten his back. With some small degree of aversion, he merely looked on as Zack faithfully returned to Cloud's side.

He was standing rather close to the blond, one of his hands massaging a sore spot on Cloud's lower back, his lips moving quickly as he whispered quietly to him. Squall noticed almost indignantly as a smile flickered across Cloud's face, the blond engrossed with Zack and whatever he was saying. Zack gestured towards a bench and he only nodded his head.

Before Squall could do anything however, he felt a strong grip on his wrist, followed by an equally strong yank that pulled him away from that small spot by the picnic tables and somewhere deep into the park.

**xxx**

"Didn't I tell you that it was a bad idea?" Zack asked with a laugh, grinning amicably at his cousin as he sat down on a small park bench. He patted the empty space beside him, gesturing for the teenager to sit. "You look like you broke a million bones in your back."

"Two," Cloud grunted with a small, pained frown, his hand trying to soothe out the knots that had formed in his back as he sat on the edge of the seat. Almost automatically, Zack's own hands had swooped down and were already working their magic on his back, gently batting Cloud's hand away, forcing him to remain seated at a slight angle. Cloud hummed in approval as Zack quickly managed to soften every tense muscle in his back, rendering him completely boneless. Cloud let out a soft sigh.

The park was moderately sparse. A handful of children were at the monkey bars and jungle gym, running around playing tag, tripping over their own stumbling feet as the drowsy evening air ringed with jocose laughter and high-pitched squeals and giggles. Their parents and babysitters were sitting at the picnic area, chatting animatedly with each other under the shade of an enormous old rain tree.

"You're having second thoughts," Zack murmured, his tone taking a more serious edge this time around.

Cloud remained silent, staring at his hands as his fingers twined together. Slowly, Zack's hands withdrew, and the raven-haired man leaned back in his seat, eyes glued to the playground and automatically scanning for Seifer and Marlene who happened to be playing tic-tac-toe at the jungle gym.

"You know better, Cloud. There shouldn't be any doubts left."

"I know that," Cloud interposed bitterly. "I do. I really do. But I. . . I don't think I could go through with it if I sent Squall to stay with you and the kids."

Zack's gaze homed in on Cloud, a mingle of concern and thoughtfulness apparent on his face. He frowned at the blond contemplatively before speaking. "It wasn't like this with Seifer," his tone was quiet, but was full of conviction. "What is it about this kid that makes him so special?"

Cloud sighed in exasperation, closing his eyes and raking his hands through his hair, burying his face in his hands and he leaned even further forward.

"You don't understand. Squall is. . . he's so. . . different."

"Yeah, sure. I can see how much you can moon over him from the way he grunts and mumbles. I'm sure he has qualities that extend from his constant glaring and demands," Zack quipped sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He caught Cloud's glare even from behind the gaps of his fingers and quickly shut his mouth.

Too little, too late.

"_Shut up_. You don't know, okay? You don't. Don't act like you know what it's like. Homeless kids are supposed to be tough, like Seifer right?" Cloud retorted angrily, voice eerily quiet and controlled. He bit down on his lower lip hesitantly before pressing on.

"Squall isn't tough. Squall is. . . He's _broken_. He's. . . It's _hard_ for him to just go up to someone and befriend them. And you don't how _long_ it took for him to finally be able to talk to me, for me to gain his trust. You can't tell me to just give him to you after realizing that the kid means so much more to me than even I could possibly imagine!"

Zack remained silent, allowing everything to sink in. His expression softened and his gaze was a harrowing mix of pain and comfort.

"But Cloud," he attempted gently. "You and your mum are having enough problems financially. The repo man's called, hasn't he? Both of you could probably cope, but do you really want Squall to know how bad your problems are?"

Cloud buried his face in his hands once again, squeezing his eyes shut.

"But. . . but I _can't_, Zack. I just _can't_."

"I'm not stealing him away from you, Cloud," he said firmly, a hand clasped around the blond's upper arm and tugging at it slightly so that the teenager would look at him when he spoke. "No one is stealing him away. I promised you I'd help take care of him for you until you have your problems sorted out."

"Didn't you say the same for Seifer? But look who he's staying with no-"

"Cloud!" Zack raised his voice angrily, incredulous of the turn this conversation was taking. Cloud was the level-headed one in this relationship, not him! "How could you even _suggest_ that? _You_ were the one who convinced Seifer to stay with me because he would have Denzel and Marlene to be with him!"

"I don't know, okay?!" Cloud retorted angrily, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. "I can't bear the thought of him not being with me. I sure as hell don't know when, but that boy is my _lifeline_ now. My whole world revolves around him. I don't what I'd do if you took him awa-"

"I'm not taking him away, Cloud. I'm taking care of him."

"But Midgar is so _far_, Zack."

"Then do you have any better ideas? Aside from keeping him with you as you struggle through your financial problems."

Cloud remained silent, his expression sombre and weary as he leaned forward, burying his face in his hands once again. Zack kept quiet, eyes grazing the blond before straying to the ground. His fingers played with a leaf that had drifted down onto the edge of the bench, eyes darting upwards now and again as the silence stretched out between them.

_No._

**xxx**

"Oof!"

Squall let out a small groan as he rubbed his forehead having had it impact against something large, hard, and akin to a tree trunk. He opened his eyes glaring sharply at whoever it was who had jerk him away from where he stood.

Denzel gave him a sheepish grin, sitting up slightly and pressing a finger to his lips in a gesture for silence. Huffily, Squall complied, puffing his cheeks in irritation as Denzel got to his knees and kept his body low, parting the bushes that hid them and peering through them at the playground a stone's throw away. With a final glance around, Denzel retreated in a satisfied manner, plopping on the ground and stretching with a slight yawn. He caught Squall's eye, noticing the sever and less-than-pleased expression on his face.

"Ehe, sorry about that," Denzel said with a dimpled grin. "Cloud and Zack always need some time to themselves to talk, y'know? Zack likes-likes Cloud, but he can't do anything about it, so he tries his best to be a good listener and all."

Squall blinked.

Great, suspicion confirmed.

Wearily, he spared a glance through the bushes at the pair sitting down. Zack had an arm around the blond, Cloud's face hidden in his own hands.

He found, surprisingly, with a rather notable lack of reluctance, that he didn't mind at all. If Zack liked Cloud in a more romantic sense. . . he didn't particularly mind. Zack made Cloud _happy_, and he was honourable in that he wouldn't force or bring upon anything because Cloud was straight, wasn't ready to have a relationship with Zack. If Zack made Cloud happy, who was Squall to complain?

"Are all of you related?" the brunet asked instead, returning to his seat and averting his gaze to the older boy. Denzel shook his head in response.

"Nah, not all of us. Zack and Marlene are brother and sister, though. I got sent to live with 'em, and Cloud found Seifer off the streets. He stayed with us after that," he explained languidly, leaning against the base of the tree trunk and folding his hand behind his head. Squall nodded lightly in reaffirmation, gaze returning to the bush and peeking through the leaves at Marlene and Seifer who were playing tag, the girl squealing happily as Seifer lunged for her.

"They fight a lot, but they're really close," Denzel said with a smile. "I think Marlene has a crush on Seifer."

"Oh," he replied a little dumbly, nodding once again. ". . . Why did Zack take you and Seifer in?"

"He and Marlene were taken away from their parents when they were kids because of the war, and they had to stay with these people who mistreated them. When Zack got old enough, he moved out and helps out with a shelter for orphans and war children. Seifer's an orphan, so Zack takes care of him like with me since Cloud asked him to. Me--" Denzel paused, rubbing away a bit of mud that had clung to his cheek during the brief tussle to pull Squall away. "--l don't know why, but I can't stay with my parents, so Zack took care of me ever since I was three."

"Oh." A light nod, eyes raking in Denzel's rather serene expression. He'd seen him somewhere before. . . but where? "You don't mind?"

"Nope! Wouldn't trade anything for the world!" he replied sweetly, tilting his head to the side. "Zack's this great big oaf but he loves us madly. He's such a dad, I'm just surprised he's not married yet."

At that, Squall couldn't help that slightly stupefied expression that crossed his face. He blinked cluelessly at the other boy.

"Err, how old _is_ Zack?"

Denzel shot him a puzzled look before grinning knowingly.

"He's 22, I think. 23, maybe."

Squall's eyes bulged.

". . . you're _joking_."

"Nu-uh. I'm dead serious," Denzel retorted with a grin. "He's a big oaf, I told you."

"But Cloud. . ."

"Cloud acts like this old man," the boy giggled. "He and Zack are perfect for each other. I think that's why they're friends."

". . . okay."

"Yeah, so you're 6 right? You don't sound like a 6-year-old!"

_Shit_. ". . . like you're any better."

"Hey!" Denzel cried out with mock incensement, his smile ever present and never faltering. "I'm 10! I'm supposed to be grown up!"

Squall stared at the boy.

**xxx**  


"Thanks for your hos-pee-tell-li-lit-tee!"

Marlene grinned up at Cloud, hopping forward and wrapping her twiggy arms around his legs in a warm hug as he patted her head fondly. He smiled softly at her, tapping her nose gently.

"Anything for my favourite cousin."

"Hey," Zack protested cheekily. "I thought _I_ was your favourite cousin!"

"Fat chance," Seifer quipped with a grin. Zack lightly slapped him upside the head with a jovial chuckle.

"You guys take care. Swing by whenever you want," Cloud nodded, Marlene releasing her grip and returning to Zack. The raven-haired man squatted down, smoothening out her dress and chided her softly as he reached over to tie her shoelaces. Noticing a pair of eyes on him, he glanced upwards, capturing Squall's inquisitive gaze. With a grin, he winked affectionately at the boy, returning to his task, whistling softly.

The rest of them paid their homage to Cloud's mother who had arrived home only minutes before, saying their respective goodbyes and packing up. Zack led the bunch, Marlene in his arms as Seifer held onto his hand. Denzel tagged by obediently, waving goodbye at Squall who awkwardly, a little embarrassedly, waved back lightly in return.

The sun was already beginning to sink below the horizon, everything growing dark and warm as Cloud and Squall remained standing there, watching on as their guests walked away from their home and towards their car parked a few paces away.

Cloud's hands were resting on Squall's shoulder, squeezing slightly as he himself gazed on at the small group.

Squall stared at Zack's wide back as he walked away slowly, chatting with the other kids good-naturedly. Denzel had taken to clutching onto the side of his trousers again, pulling slightly as he spoke excitedly. Zack chuckled nudged the boy gently with his knee before taking off in a slight run, Seifer and Marlene laughing in glee.

And then it hit him.

Squall knew exactly what had been so terribly familiar of the man.

Zack was like. . . a _dad_.

That same goofy personality. That same mischievous grin. That same loving gaze. That same protective demeanour. That same cheeky humour. That same strength.

Zack reminded him of a father. _His_ father. Reminded him of how warm a father could be. Reminded him of how much he was capable of missing his father. He wanted his old life, his old home, his old family. Dejectedly, the boy heaved a sigh, lashes fluttering a little as he continued watching over the group as they left.

"Zack!"

Squall looked up, a little startled by Cloud's sudden exclamation.

The others stopped, Zack turning back to look at Cloud.

With steely reaffirmation, Cloud swallowed. Swallowed back his fear. Swallowed back his insecurity. Swallowed back his doubts. He inhaled smoothly, closing his eyes and allowing them to remain shut for a moment before opening them, a strange fire of determination apparent within the bright blue.

"I'm sorry. I won't go through with it. I'll make it work somehow."

Zack faltered, opening his mouth to say something but pausing, the words unable to form on his lips. He closed his mouth, looking hard at the blond, his eyes searching and his expression sombre with fortitude. They stared at one another for a lingering moment, each willing the other to relent and to give in.

But nothing could douse Cloud's fire.

Zack threw the towel in.

Cloud had won. He could have things his way. Zack could never win this.

Words weren't needed. Zack allowed a half-smile to grace his face before nodding to the teenager, turning once again and disappearing down the path with his kids. The blond felt himself tremble with a little excitement, a little fear. There wouldn't be anymore bickering or objecting. He could really, really keep Squall with him. Granted, life would be more difficult and. . . and Squall belonged to Aerith in the end, but. . . this short period of happiness was enough to last a lifetime for him.

"Cloud?"

Cloud looked down at Squall's worried expression, his own softening tenderly. He gave the boy a full smile and squatted, engulfing the brunet in a tight bear hug, nuzzling his face in Squall's hair as that unrestrained smile managed to leak to his eyes, forcing him to squeeze them shut to somehow root him to reality.

Squall had been a little abashed, a forthright blush colouring in his ears and cheeks, but slowly, his fingers reached up and grasped onto Cloud's forearm, squeezing gently.

Squall missed his old family. But he wouldn't trade Cloud in for the world.

* * *

**A/N: **So like, Happy Belated New Year! 

:D Doing my best to juggle writing my fics and real life and etc. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 07  
Words: 7 617  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): Eventual Leon x Cloud  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute :D;;  
Rated: R

* * *

Squall kept blinking the drowsiness out of his eyes. 

The boy was sitting quietly at the dining table; his crossed arms tucked underneath his chin as he locked his ankles together and gently swung his feet back and forth. Quietly, his hazy eyes focused and unfocused on the back of the person who was at the stove in the kitchen through his droopy eyelids. Squall let out a soft sigh, nestling the side of his face into his arms and letting out a small yawn.

After the entire episode with Zack and the other children only hours before, Cloud and Squall had been left feeling completely sapped of energy and had spent the rest of their time together in a rather atypical silence. Squall had been running through his newfound perusals and feelings over and over again. It left him with quite an amount to ponder, what with the additional mysteries he had yet to solve that concerned the blond teenager and Cid and whatnot.

On the other hand, Cloud, so he suspected, seemed to be more caught in less trivial thoughts. There was an odd resignation about him, about the way he had started to carry himself with after that final exchange with Zack.

Squall had his own theories as to what Zack and Cloud had been discussing. It most definitely concerned him, and from what he could conclude, it probably had involved Cloud sending him away. But Cloud had decided not to.

Squall sighed softly again, closing his eyes, brows knitting together with slight displeasure. He didn't want to think about Zack at the moment. He didn't want to think about Denzel, and Seifer, and Marlene. Picturing their faces was already enough to make the beginnings of a headache pick at his brain.

The boy's eyes fluttered, staring at a blurry spot some distance away on the dining table as his gaze averted.

He had felt so tired, but for some strange reason, he hadn't been able to sleep. Half an hour had passed after Cloud's mum had tucked him in, and he had _still_ been awake, tossing and turning on the bed that had suddenly seemed lumpy and hard. Before long, the shadows in his room had started to scare him like before, only this time, he hadn't given in _completely_ to the childish urge of his body to hide under the covers and cry a little. No, instead, before he knew what was happening, Squall had thrown the blankets off and stalked down the corridor.

To Cloud's room.

The teenager had been standing by his bed, pyjama pants clinging loosely to his waist as he buttoned up the faded top. The slight creaking of his bedroom door had notified the teen of a little late night visitor, and sure enough, when he noticed Squall peeking at him meekly from the other side of the door, Cloud had allowed a small, amused, yet slightly tired smile to pull briefly at his lips before walking over to the boy, squatting down in front of him and asking him, softly, if he was having trouble sleeping.

After a timid nod on the young brunet's behalf, Cloud had swept him into his arms, fingers briefly brushing against the sterile tourniquet wrapped firmly around his head before carrying him to the kitchen and gently setting him down on a chair at the table.

For some strange reason, the warmth of Cloud's body heat from when he had been carried moments before had started to lull him slightly. Settling down as comfortably as possible, Squall allowed his eyes to slip closed and tried to nudge himself along to sleep; something he had been unable to do for the past. . . Squall squinted briefly at the wall clock and did some rough calculations. . . hour and a half.

He hummed softly, hoping that it would somehow aid in his victory against the sandman. His eyes fluttered shut once again, the quiet, melodious sound pouring from his lips half-muffled by the pressing of his cheeks against his forearms. It was a slow, ballad-like song. Squall couldn't, for the life of him, remember what in particular he was humming, but all he knew was that he had somehow gotten it from his dad who used to sing him to sleep with this song. And he liked it. A lot.

There was a soft thud, and something warm descended on his back, rubbing slightly. Cloud was leaning over him, murmuring softly, coaxing him to sit up. With a tired sigh, Squall forced his eyes open and leaned back in his seat, clenching and unclenching his fists in order to regain feeling in both his arms before he scrubbed his eyes with the heel of a palm. Cloud smiled softly at that, sliding the warm mug closer towards the boy.

Lightly, Squall gripped it with both hands, bringing it to his lips and letting the tepid drink roll down his throat indolently, bringing along with it the waves of tranquil rest. His eyelids began to droop a little heavier, and his mind was starting to grow pleasantly hazy. Groggily, he barely registered the loss of warmth from his dainty fingers as the blond picked the mug out of his grip, wrapping his strong arms around Squall's tiny body and pressing the boy close to his chest as he carried him steadily.

Squall sighed softly in what may have been contentment. Cloud heard it, tilting his head to a side and resting it tentatively on Squall's head as he rocked the boy back and forth for a moment, swaying him to sleep, a minute smile on his face. Squall's fingers curled around the fabric of Cloud's pyjama top, clenching it tightly and refusing to let go.

Cloud's muffled footfalls resonated softly through the quiet house, his mouth by Squall's ear, his quiet breathing soothing the child as a patch on the blond's shoulder grew warm with each puff of air from the boy before growing chilly once again. Squall's head lolled to the side, moving closer against the blond's neck and nuzzling it slightly.

Cloud chuckled in quiet mirth, resting his hand on the doorknob of the guest room that had been prepared for Squall. He stepped inside lightly, approaching the messed up bed, and gently attempted to pry the boy from his neck. To no avail, as Squall simply refused to release the teenager.

At a loss, Cloud pressed his lips together for a moment in contemplation, eyes glancing between the boy and the bed that was soaked in moonlight that streamed in past the curtains that didn't quite cover the windows. The soft light illuminated the young boy's face, down to the plump roundedness of his right cheek that was pressed against his upper arm and his slightly parted lips that whistled silently with each intake of breath. His long lashes fluttered slightly, leaning into the teenager.

With a resigned sigh, Cloud retreated and closed the door behind him firmly, walking down the chilly passage.

Squall stirred a little when he felt a weight descending onto his stomach as his back hit something soft and flat. With a slight groan, he opened his eyes, gaze bleary, turning to shift onto his right side. After momentarily allowing his vision to come into focus, he eventually managed to make out the line of Cloud's nose down to his full lips through the slight darkness that clouded the room.

Blinking slightly, Squall squinted, recognizing Cloud's telltale spikes and his fair patches of freckles that were illuminated by the stifled light from outside. A strong arm had been wound around Squall's small body, the boy's head settled onto an age-worn pillow as Cloud breathed puffs of air that gently tickled Squall's brow.

Cloud looked so serene, completely unbridled by the weight of the world. Squall closed his eyes briefly, the image of Cloud unconscious from exhaustion flickering into his mind from those nights ago in the kitchen when he had first met Cloud's mother. He had noticed this guiltless expression of pure contentment and rest gracing the blond's face then, but had been too taken with his mum – with _a_ mum – to have paid it any great care.

Without thinking, Squall had already reached his left hand out, fingertips brushing the warm skin of Cloud's forehead, gently tracing the curve of his jaw downwards towards his lips. He pressed his palm flat against Cloud's cheek, a thumb stroking the corner of his mouth gently, as if to actually physically _feel_ the light smile that had unconsciously illuminated Cloud's face.

Squall's eyelashes hooded his eyes, and his hand slid lower, fingers hooking around Cloud's nape and hand resting against the crook of the blond's neck.

His father used to cuddle him in bed, too; a long time ago when he had once believed in the bogeyman and ghosts haunting the closet after sunrise. His dad would wrap him up in bundles of blankets and wrap his arms tightly around his body, nuzzling his cheek with his stubbly chin to elicit a slight cry of indignation from him even though he actually secretly liked it. Once he had settled down, Laguna would tell him to close his eyes as he pulled the blankets over them, and rock him to sleep with a lullaby.

He had a feeling that Laguna knew that he liked those fatherly gestures though he pretended to hate them under the pretence of being mature. However, he was grateful that his dad kept nuzzling and singing to him, even if he had always protested rather avidly.

His mother had died at childbirth, when he had been born. He had been a little frail as a baby due to the medical conditions surrounding his birth that eventually led to his mother's death, but otherwise, he grew up stably. Due to his frailty as an infant, he was always a little more pale, always a little more girlish, always a little more scraggly than the other children.

He couldn't take the constant looks of pity and sympathy from his neighbours, or the sneers and teasing from the other kids because he was not enough like a normal, healthy boy. He was tired of the constant whispers surrounding him, his mother's death, and the relationship between his parents. He hated that people kept equating his current condition with the circumstances surrounding his father and mother before his birth.

His father suffered greatly. He could tell. He had seen it with his very own eyes. Despite the fact that Laguna was always strong and jovial and righteous for his one and only son, he knew from the very start that Laguna endured agonizing pain each time he walked through the streets and looked at the face of the boy that had caused the death of the woman he loved.

Everyone had always said that they saw so much of her in him, in Leon. In his face and hair colour and eyes. He treasured those words with every ounce of his being because it connected himself with his mother even beyond her death. But even so, he felt his life slipping away through his fingertips and decided that it was time he stopped being the little boy who loved playing with puppies and pouncing on his father as he walked through the door. He stopped being a mere child who loved eating a variety of sweetmeats and stopped believing in Santa and fairies and dragons and princes and monsters and ghosts and dreams.

He threw away his childhood on that one day, and forced himself to be an adult.

With a small sigh, Squall's eyes fluttered slightly, the boy leaning forward and tucking his head under Cloud's chin. He withdrew his hand from the blond's neck and instead wrapped it around Cloud's own, squeezing it briefly before pulling it to his chest and finally closing his eyes.

Squall knew that he had changed.

Ever since he had accidentally drank that potion, ever since he had gotten sick under Yuffie's clumsy care, ever since his staying with Cloud Strife, everything had changed. He couldn't be Leon anymore. He couldn't talk to his peers with the same measure of respect anymore. His body was fast overtaking his mind, his spirit forced to succumb to every childish whim that surfaced within this immature and young body. Hunger pangs, inexplicable fears, irregular energy levels – everything was different now.

Squall couldn't recall the last time so many things had happened at once.

He had lost track of the days since everything had begun. Like this silly name, this _farce_ that he was made to hide behind, a whirlwind, a sheer tempest had engulfed every preconception and logical notion that he owned and had flicked on a switch to spit everything up into the air just so that it would all be turned upside down. It hadn't even spanned a full two weeks and already, everything that he had ever clung securely to had left him out in the cold.

Whatever happened to being a mature, grown up adult?

When was the last time he had ever played tag with others, or poked someone repeatedly out of boredom, or constantly asked to be picked up so that he would be carried around like a. . . a _child_? He was being pampered front, back and centre by everyone he had come to know, and. . . he _loved_ it.

This was everything he had thrown away for the sake of. . .

But wait. Why _had_ he even thrown it all away in the beginning? To prove himself? To start from scratch and take another shot at living his life?

Squall, no, _Leon_ had never believed in fate. But, was. . . was God giving him a second chance to relive his childhood? To retrieve the remnants of everything he had trashed?

But _why_?

_Why_ would he need to do something like that? For what purpose was he masquerading as a child? What significance could be found from reliving the past in the present?

Thus far, the only good things that he could somewhat understand were Cloud and his mother. Cloud, for all his misgivings, was like no other person that Squall could even begin to describe. Being with him had opened new doors, new worlds to his sheltered pessimism, and nothing else but _good_ had come from getting to know Cloud for Cloud. Discarding all knowledge or acknowledgement of this inexplicable experience would mean letting go of everything he had begun to understand, being with Cloud. And that was something he would never do, not even under threat of death or anything of the sort.

But even then, he couldn't even begin to _dream_ up the pitiful excuse of mere 'coincidence'. There had to be something more; something deeper and more reasonable behind everything that had taken place.

And through it all, Squall felt some measure of. . . of _fear_. Fear that he would never understand the reasons, or that the potion would lose its potency and poison him instead, or that he would be found out and thrown out the door, or that he would never change.

But most importantly of all, he felt fear that he didn't _mind_ not needing to change back.

Squall knew that he had changed.

In his sleep, Cloud unconsciously tightened his grip around Squall's fingers. The boy squeezed back.

But he didn't know if it was _right_.

**xxx**

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I wake you, sweetheart?"

Squall looked up at the blond woman who was stroking his hair gently, smiling in her sweet way. She beamed at him, making him shoot her a sleep-induced grin, for he was still drowsy, but he didn't mind being awake if she was going to keep doing that. Her long blond hair wasn't in its usual braid, flowing smoothly over her shoulders and framing her lovely face.

She still looked exhausted, as though her energy was being sapped away from her continuously, but it seemed as though she was. . . brimming with happiness. When she spoke, her voice was soft and quiet, and with good reason too.

"You guys had a sleep over, huh? Looked like fun," she said with a hint of a grin, gently brushing away a lock of hair that covered Squall's brow. Her voice was muted now, expression glazed over a touch and gaze a mild pool of comfort as her expression softened.

"You're both close, aren't you?"

Squall didn't know what to say, the words refusing to form on the tip of his tongue. He raised himself slightly, squirming as Cloud's hand slid from around his chest down to his lap as the boy attempted to sit up. Before he could do so fully, however, Cloud's mother already had a hand to his chest, pushing him back down onto the bed. He looked up at her, blinking in slight confusion.

She pressed a finger to her lips, smiling sweetly once again.

"You don't have to get up sweetie. Just stay in bed. And try not to wake Cloud up too, okay? He's been going through a rough patch and deserves a lie-in this time around. I'm going to make breakfast. Do you want anything, honey?" she asked quietly, bending over to brush away his bangs, pressing a light peck to his forehead that caused him to blush heatedly.

"Can we have. . . waffles?" he asked conspiratorially in hushed tones, glancing sideways at Cloud's slumbering face as the teenager shifted in his sleep. Cloud let out a sleepy grunt of protest, his lips twisting into a slight frown as his fine brows knitted together. He rolled onto his stomach, the arm draped lazily across Squall's lap hooking around his waist and enveloping the boy in a hug. Mrs. Strife paused a moment, taking the scene in before letting out a quiet laugh, kissing Squall's forehead again and tapping his nose. He beamed timidly, flushing.

"Of course, dear. You go back to sleep now."

She tucked him in, waving a little before leaving. The door shut behind her firmly with a slight click, and her quiet footsteps padded away until the sound disappeared altogether.

Squall settled in bed, and as luck would have it, was unable to fall asleep once again. It had always been this way, and it didn't seem like it would change anytime soon. Instead, he pushed himself off his back and back onto his side, peering curiously at Cloud's face that was half-buried in his pillow.

The gentle rising and falling of Cloud's body was comfort to an extent. Squall, having been pulled closer to the teenager in his sleep, was pressed against the side of the blond's body, his nose grazing the tip of Cloud's own. Squirming a little, the boy managed to loosen the grip of Cloud's arm that had been wrung around his body and managed to nestle under the covers once again, getting comfortable.

Soon enough, Squall's wandering fingers had submitted into temptation and had finally, with some measure of reluctance, pried forward and tugged gently on a stray spike of Cloud's golden hair. Cloud's hair had always fascinated him but he had always refrained himself from playing with or touching it out of sheer courtesy.

His hair was soft. Really soft. It was so strange to see someone with hair so naturally spiky, and Squall couldn't help but rake his fingers through Cloud's hair. He had always thought that the teenagers would feel oily, or matted, or perhaps a little hard due to gel or something of the like, but. . . it was like regular hair. Just spiked together naturally. Squall wondered if it was a result of constant spiking with hair cream or something as a child that finally brought on the natural state of spikiness, but Squall was completely enamoured with playing with Cloud's hair that he didn't care much for those thoughts.

There was a light grunt, and Cloud's lashes fluttered a little, his brows furrowing.

Startled, Squall's hand shot back, gripping onto an area of shirt that covered his heart, trying to calm it down. He held his breath, freezing completely as he quietly observed Cloud let out another grunt and then quieten down, snoring softly once again. Squall waited for a very long moment, aware of every breath and creak resonating throughout the room.

Cautiously, Squall reached out to touch a spike of hair that stuck out.

He could barely comprehend what happened, as suddenly, Cloud had rolled over and was lying on top of him. The boy let out a slight squeal, realizing that the teenager had been awake and had merely been _waiting_ for the chance to pounce.

Cloud was lying flat on the boy. His body had been strewn sideways across the bed with his long arms dangling across the edge of the mattress. His stomach weighed down completely on Squall's body, pinning him down and relieving him of the ability to laugh properly. Squall was reduced to gasps and breathless laughter as he struggled weakly under the teen, his face red. He tried to flail, but Cloud was _heavy_ and he was laughing too hard to be able to do anything.

After a few strangled cries for Cloud to get off (the giggles stifled the words a little) the teenager grinned, finally conceding. He got to his knees, sitting up right and patting the small boy's head good-naturedly. He attempted to pout slightly at that, but he had a lame smile on his face, still recovering from the giggling.

Without warning, Squall jumped on Cloud with a wicked grin, wringing his arms around the blond's neck and toppling him over onto the bed. Cloud let out a slight yelp as Squall tried to lock the teenager's arms, but swiftly, he threw his leg over the boy, pinning him down once again and tangling them up helplessly in the blankets.

Squall tried to wriggle free, but Cloud was already advancing on him, fingers dancing wildly on his sides once again.

Squall _squealed_.

He struggled wildly, laughing his lungs dry as he tried his best to get up and attack Cloud, but, as per usual, the teenager was much stronger and bigger than he was. Cloud had locked both his legs around Squall's thighs, clamping them down as he concentrated on his tickling, grinning uncontrollably just as Squall managed to break free and proceeded to smack his face with his pillow.

With a startled, "Oof!" Cloud fell backwards, Squall launching himself onto the blond and grasping his arm and shoulder, effectively rendering it immobile as the teen started to laugh loudly, flipping them over so that he was lying on top of Squall _again_.

They continued to wrestle and tickle one another, their voices carrying throughout the house so much so Mrs. Strife herself decided to make the arduous trek to Cloud's room, still clad in her cooking apron. Carefully, she pushed the door open, her lips twitching upwards at the pair of boys. Her hands found their way to her hips and she watched the scene with a raised brow, cocking her head to the side to evade the pillow that had been hurled blindly. It smacked against the doorway and fell to the floor with a weak 'thump'.

She cleared her throat loudly, eyebrow still raised.

"Oh. Oh, hi Mum," Cloud managed a grin, his head teetering off the edge of the mattress as Squall was curled up on his stomach, somehow caught in the knot of sheets that had bundled up around the blond's waist. "Yeah, sorry about that. Lucky you dodged, huh?"

"Breakfast's ready. Waffles," she merely replied, lips curling upwards into an amused smile.

Both boys looked at each other a moment, a glint of challenge reflecting in their gazes. In the next instant, both were scrambling off the bed, the one still caught in the blankets tugging and pulling back the other, who was elbowing and pushing his way out. Cloud stumbled to the ground, bringing the mesh of comforters sailing to the floor.

Squall took the opportunity to squirm out of the blankets, hand slapped over Cloud's face to steady himself before he shoved the teen away with a giggle, making a mad dash for the doorway. Grumbling under his breath, Cloud pulled the sheets covering his legs away with his hands, jumping to his feet and racing out into the passageway.

He overtook Squall with ease, shooting the boy a smug grin. The kitchen was just a few paces beyond. The tantalizing scent of burnt honey and freshly cooked waffles was already caressing his nostrils, aiding his plight of victory. Just a little more, and the saccharine breakfast of the heavens would be all his.

With a slight growl, Squall made a lunge for Cloud's legs, knocking him flat onto the ground. He scrambled across the blond's fallen form, both of them struggling to pull the other down to floor using various dirty methods inclusive of poking, tickling, and more rogue elbows whacking here and there.

Eventually, Cloud let out a loud sigh of surrender by retreating to the floor, lying flat on his back whilst panting rather visibly. With a triumphant sound, Squall jumped to his feet and made the final dash to the kitchen table. He climbed onto a chair with a little victory, toddling up the furniture and plopping himself down with a smug air.

"Ouch!"

Squall glanced to the side, noting how Cloud was sitting up and cradling the back of his head as Mrs. Strife stood over him, laughing jocosely at her son. Cloud shot her a dirty look, and, noticing Squall's gaze, pouted childishly at the boy.

Squall merely grinned.

**xxx**

It was a nice, cool day, with patches of fluffy white clouds floating indolently through the bright blue sky. A warm breeze fluttered through the town, whispering in soothing gusts of wind. The lush green leaves rustled merrily with the winds, trees swaying back and forth in lazy sighs as the sparse sounds of the city drifted farther and farther away with each minute, the scenic panorama rushing by from behind thick glass.

Squall had his seatbelt on, head inclined to the side, temple resting against the car window. His eyes were glued on the scenery outside, gaze glazing over now and again. Car rides had always made him sleepy. He didn't really know why.

Too lazy to move, Squall merely tilted his chin upwards a little, tearing his gaze away to allow it to settle on the blond teenager who was currently driving the car casually. His almond-shaped eyes were half-lidded, peering up quietly as a smile flickered across his lips.

Awake, the usual sternness had returned to Cloud's face, causing the tenseness to resurface in his demeanour. He wasn't like the cherubic image of peace Squall had made him out to be when he had been asleep.

Cloud must have noticed the boy's perusal as he glanced sideways, catching Squall's eye. Squall smiled at him, cocking his head a little. The teen quickly returned his eyes to the road, both hands now gripping the steering wheel as a smile of his own ghosted across his lips, Cloud starting to feel completely elated and simply unable to keep that emotion from spreading throughout his body and affecting him wholly.

Soon enough, Cloud had begun to hum a soft tune, lips curled upwards in a miniscule, yet unwavering smile. He sat up straighter, guiding the car with more fluidity and ease than before. Every once in a while, when he thought he felt Squall's eyes on him, he was tempted to return the gaze but he reminded himself that he had to be vigilant on the road.

The tar road gradually buried into a thick layer of stones and dirt, cloaked by dried grass until, eventually, the road disappeared completely and gave way to nothing more than a path of dirt and soil and grass that had been flattened and compacted to form a hard slab of earth. Thankfully, the country was mercifully dry during summer. Any simple rainstorm would have caused the dirt path to become nothing more than a mud trap, and that wasn't very welcome for a car that had just recently been washed.

Cloud turned right, breaking away from the main path for a moment to answer his ringing phone. Silently, he read the display screen, holding it up to his ear to listen to the speaker on the other end. As usual, he didn't do much talking, but he digressed from his usual anti-social grunting and resorted instead to soft murmurs of, "Yeah," every now and again to signify his response.

He heaved a small sigh of amusement at the cheery farewell the caller ended with, the smile widening a touch. He brought the phone down, looking at the display screen once again and chuckled quietly, shaking his head a little.

Cloud glanced to the side, turning his head to get a proper look at Squall who had dozed off. The soothing vibration of the moving car and the heat of a warm summer day must have lulled him to sleep.

The blond slipped his phone into the coin box, resting both hands on the top of the steering wheel and leaning forward, resting his chin against his wrists as his eyes remained on the boy. Expression softening immensely, Cloud's gaze grazed the delicate reflection of light that bounced off the boy's porcelain white skin, resisting the urge to just lean over and squeeze the living daylights out of the boy. He'd wake up cranky.

It was this that clenched at Cloud's heart so much, that made him want to protect Squall with all his being. Squall looked so innocent and sweet then too, that night when he had healed from his bout of flu, and during the car ride to Cid's house. He was such a cute kid, really. With a quiet, mirthful laugh, Cloud leaned back into his seat, recalling how Squall had played with his hair when he thought no one was looking.

Cloud's expression slipped into a more meaningful, wistful one. He reached over, fingers gently touching his forehead and brushing away Squall's dark bangs. He slowly – delicately – traced the bridge of Squall's nose, brushing a knuckle past his slightly parted lips and sliding away from the boy's chin. He leaned forward, eyes fluttering shut, and pressed his lips against Squall's forehead, letting it linger, letting reality sink in for just a moment longer before he pulled away, stroking his hair.

Cloud murmured the boy's name softly as he did so. It took a while, but Squall finally awakened, blinking sleepily at the teenager.

A smile pulled at his lips again, and Cloud nodded, tapping Squall's nose before he returned to the steering wheel, switching gears and reversing slowly. He knew that the boy was looking around drowsily, a little confused. Cloud turned into the vast expanse of fields by the dirt path, the drive a little bumpy as he drove the car over the tall grass.

It was a good thing that Squall had roused before this length of the drive. It wasn't pleasant to be awoken with a large bump to the head courtesy of the window, due to the uneven path. He'd have been _really_ cranky then.

After a few more uncomfortable minutes, Cloud finally made it to more level ground, pulling into a spot beside a small red pick-up truck, parking the car.

Squall scrambled out of his seatbelt, sliding out of the car, and putting his entire weight into closing the car door tightly. A warm wind flurried through, washing past them with the fresh and strong scents of summer; like hydrangeas and burnt honey.

Squall glanced up at the sky, screwing his eyes shut at the glare, raising an arm to protect them.

Just then, a huge shadow completely blocked out his view of the sun and he found himself blinking up at a cheery, grinning face.

Before anything could happen, he felt his feet lift off the ground, body feeling light as he was tossed into the air, caught again by a pair of strong, calloused hands. He grinned at that smiling face, giggling heartily when he felt the man's stubbly chin rubbing against his cheek playfully. After a while, he stopped, holding the boy up so they could talk face to face.

"Lookit you, kid! Well I'll be, you're lookin' mighty good, y'are. Mighty good. Didja miss yer Uncle Cid?" the aged man asked with a grin, carrying the boy upright. Squall grinned again, nodding at the man with a slight chuckle, his fingers curling into the fabric at the man's shoulders automatically.

Cid and Cloud exchanged smiles and greetings, the old man jerking a thumb towards the back of his pick-up. Squall's gaze followed the direction of Cid's pointing, noting, with some degree of mystification, a bundle of colourful papers and some brittle twigs and branches packed together. After a bit of puzzling, he could only conclude that it was for Cid's gardening purposes and left it at that, instead turning around and nestling comfortably against the aged man, looking at Cloud.

Cid and Cloud were talking again, and as usual, Squall himself had just begun to lose interest at any exchanges between them. He was set down on the back of the pick-up, his legs swinging back and forth as it dangled over the edges as Cloud and Cid continued chatting among themselves, hauling things from the side of the car.

Cid was winding something, wire, maybe, still chatting jovially with Cloud, completely unfazed by his typical quietness. Every now and again he'd glance at Squall and wink before returning to doing whatever it was he was doing. He was in an exceptionally good mood, Squall decided, noting the extra bounce in his step and the lack of straw or cigarette dangling from the corner of his lips.

The lazy summer sun was starting to soothe Squall to sleep once again, mingled with the pleasant winds that swept through the countryside. They were out of town, closer to Cid's home that were still a few kilometres down the road. Squall leaned back, both palms set down on the truck's dusty cargo area floor, head tilted up to bask in the sleepy sunrays as he closed his eyes.

He could hear the faint sounds of vehicles driving past on the highway quite a distance away, the cheery chirping of birds filling the skies as the gentle whistling of the wind tickled his ears. With a soft, content sigh, Squall felt himself slipping off to sleep once again.

He felt a rough palm grip his shoulder tightly, shaking him.

"Oy, oy! No time to be sleepin' ya hear? Get off that butt o' yours and get over 'ere!"

With a slight, childish pout, Squall jumped off cautiously, shuffling over to the centre grassy expanse where Cloud was, aware that he was sulking slightly but not caring in the least. Cloud regarded him with a chuckle, ruffling his hair affectionately when he plunked himself against the teenager's supple legs, pouting at a blameless rock on the ground.

Cid came by, getting down right beside Squall and setting a small reel in his hands. He pointed out roughly how to use it. Squall blinked.

A kite spool?

Cloud nudged something into his hands, that smile of his ghosting across his lips once again as he winked at the boy. He snuck a glance at Cid, who had returned to the back of his pick-up to retrieve another kite. With a conspiratorial grin, he cupped a hand around Squall's ear, whispering quickly.

"Just run your heart out."

He pulled back, giving Squall a pointed look, seeking confirmation that he understood. Squall paused a moment before he smiled, nodding.

Gripping the line of his kite, he raised his right hand up, left hand positioned over the spool. With an encouraging clap to his back from Cloud, he broke into a run, eyes remaining on the kite as he sprinted forward, fingers deftly guiding the line. His legs burned slightly, but he didn't care; all that mattered suddenly was the bright red and orange kite against the brilliant blue sky.

Slowly, he released the string steadily, fingers hooking around the line to keep too much from spilling out of the spool. It was a bit of work and little bit more running in addition to ignoring Cid's indignant shouting, but eventually, a wind picked up the kite and soon enough, it was _soaring_.

Squall ran for all he was worth back to Cid, the grin on his face wide and irrepressible. His eyes shone brightly, face full of colour and entire body brimming with life as he ran into the old man, Cid catching the boy in his arms with a hearty laugh. They started manoeuvring the kite, sailing it through the clouds once it was high enough to and steering it away from the occasional bird.

Squall laughed. He just did. It was strange, it was inexplicable, it was _crazy_ but he laughed his heart out and he just felt happier when he noticed the smile spreading to both Cid and Cloud.

Life was wonderful.

Squall was happy, he had found something important in his life that spanned beyond simple companionship and, at that moment, the fact that he was Leon didn't matter at all. He was bathing in sunshine with Cid and Cloud, flying kites – something he hadn't done in about 14 years or so – and life was good. Life was _great_.

And then suddenly, he heard Cloud call his name sharply.

He stopped, turning to look at the teenager who had begun to jog towards them, his expression tense and stern and angry. Cid's expression fell, moulding into something more familiar and grim, as though he knew the situation at hand. He nodded at Cloud even before he spoke, eyeing Squall briefly before flicking his gaze back up at the blond. His hand remained on top of Squall's head.

"I'm sorry. Something came up. We're going home."

**xxx**

Cloud strode into the house, leaving Squall behind to jog to keep up with the blond. Upon entering, it was evident that something was off. The boy looked around, noticing moved furniture and books and papers that had been strewn and tossed across the place. Something bad had happened. Cloud had entered the kitchen, muttering something in a low and bitter voice. Squall hurried to Cloud's side, fingers curling around a bit of fabric of his jeans. The boy looked up ahead with a confused expression at the unfamiliar face that was leaning casually against the counters towards Mrs. Strife, a faint grey streak that ran through the man's hair visible under the glint of the sun.

"Well, well. Look who we have here. Miss me?" the man smirked, crossing his arms as he inclined his body towards the two.

Cloud growled lowly, Squall peering up at the blond.

"If that is not enough, we could always look at some spare furniture I have in the guest room," Cloud's mother interjected, her voice devoid of its womanly warmth and strangely businesslike. Her expression was solemn, and, oddly enough, irritated to a measure.

"Lead the way, ma'am," the man bowed slightly, giving her a salute. His tone held a distinct tinge of playfulness, and perhaps a little mocking though it couldn't be determined.

She shot him an icy glare. Squall winced involuntarily at the poison, suddenly aware that Cloud and his mother were more alike than he was ready to admit. Mrs. Strife turned on her heel indignantly and walked off into another room.

The man didn't move, preferring to remain in his position though he leaned even lower, eyes glued to the woman's back at a rather. . . scandalous location. He smirked again, leering at her posterior as it disappeared down the hall. Letting out a low whistle, a deep chuckle rumbled through his throat as he straightened up, brushing off his suit and shooting Cloud a rather self-satisfied look, baring his teeth in a rather feral manner.

"Phew, Momma Strife's some kind of hot stuff, ain't she, kid? _Love_ her body."

Cloud scowled angrily in response.

"Don't you _dare_," he spat at the man, gathering as much odium and hatred and venom as humanly possible in that one glower, clenching his fists so tightly that Squall could see that he was shaking, knuckles completely white. "Don't you fucking _dare_ do _anything_ to my mum, got it? Don't you _touch_ her or I'll make you suffer in so many ways, that left eye of yours will join your fucking _right_."

The man snorted, tossing his head back haughtily.

"Sharp words from some pretty sharp hair," he sneered in retaliation, raising his hand in a lazy motion to flick Cloud off, but the teenager was faster than him.

Squall grimaced a little at the strained, pained cringe that was evident on the man's face. Cloud had managed a quick move, grasping his wrist and twisting it in an odd angle brutally. Any much harder and the cartilage would tear off cleanly from the ligament in his elbow and wrist.

"I don't care who the fuck you are, Xigbar," Cloud hissed, voice dangerously low. "But I swear to you, if you do _anything_ at all to her, _I'll kill you_."

Cloud released him roughly, shoving the man back.

Xigbar staggered, massaging his wrist tenderly as he narrowed his one good eye into a piercing glare at the blond. "Some mummy complex you've got," he muttered spitefully. Scowling, he dusted his suit off stiffly, straightening it out and standing up straight to his full height, towering over the blond by about an inch.

Cloud didn't back down, meeting his gaze head on with a glare of his own.

Squall's gaze averted between the two, the hair at the back of his neck standing on its edge. He resisted the urge to step back; suddenly aware of something that had always puzzled him before. He squinted at the fuming pair, eyeing the livid stance and the defensive pose Cloud had taken. His back was arched, like a predator ready to strike out at its prey, and he had taken a step forward, fist clenched and ever ready to throw a punch. His entire body was rigid, stiff with anger.

Wasn't Cloud always like this when _they_ used to fight?

Squall felt downright amazed at that, incredulous of the fact that he and Cloud had ever clashed so violently before this. The two weeks that he had spent living with Cloud had changed him and his perspective of the teenager so much that he had forgotten what it had been like to hold even a pinch of hatred for him.

Swallowing slightly, Squall took a hesitant step forward, feeling timid and weak in front of these bristling adults. He continued on, each step growing less wobbly until he was finally right beside them. He clenched his fist for a moment, inhaling slowly before reaching out and tugging at Cloud's trousers slightly, asking for a little attention, hoping to break the fight.

Just like that, the spell was broken.

Cloud looked down at Squall, eyes glazed over, expression a touch dazed. The teenager blinked a few times, taking in the imploring image of the young boy, his body slowly losing all tension and stringency and relaxing. Xigbar, too, seemed to have been affected. He looked down at the kid, frowning deeply.

"Xigbar! Aren't you going to come and look at the-"

Cloud's mother halted in the doorway, freezing slightly at the image before her. She glanced between all of them, biting down on her lower lip before exchanging a rather serious look with her son. Cloud, in response, shook his head slowly after a moment of pausing. Her gaze travelled to Squall, who was still clutching onto the blond.

"New kid of yours?" Xigbar grunted in question, not looking directly at Mrs. Strife.

She looked at him, lips twisted into a frown.

"I'm taking care of him."

Xigbar grunted again, shrugging this time. His eyes remained on the ground, staring at his shoes. Slowly, she walked towards them, gaze lingering on the man before she squatted down at eye level with Squall, flashing him a small smile. He relaxed visibly at that, his grip on Cloud's trousers loosening. She enveloped him in her arms and he willingly obliged, nestling himself against her as she got to her feet, cradling him in her arms consolingly.

"Y'know something? Forget it," Xigbar said huffily, tossing Cloud a brief glare before turning to meet his mother's eyes. "I won't repossess anything this time. Watch your back and come up with the money next month or I won't go so easy on you." With that said, he gave her a curt nod and strode out the door, the door closing behind him with a firm click.

Cloud's mother held Squall closer, tucking his head under her chin, and smiled weakly at Cloud, nodding a little.

Cloud's expression darkened. He met Squall's worried gaze briefly, and for that one moment, sensed something deeper than mere childish panic. It was a knowing type of worry, his unquestioning demeanour suddenly making the blond feel uneasy. It was like he wasn't able to hide anything from the boy, like nothing could faze even a small child like himself, be it even monetary problems or Xigbar's kind of subtle blackmailing.

Like Squall _knew_.

Cloud looked away.

* * *

**A/N:** Aaaaaand finally, all the chapters from my LJ have been transferred to FFN successfully. In the mean time, I'm working on chapter 8, so sit tight and review so that I can update fast or I might just change my mind. D: 


	8. Chapter 8

**Counterclockwise**

Chapter 08  
Words: 14 105  
Genre: Comedy/Romance (Fluff)  
Pairing(s): Eventual Leon x Cloud  
Notes: AU highschool!fic. Leon will hereon be referred to as Squall. :D  
Disclaimer: Inspired by Gosho Aoyama's Conan, as well as Staryday's fic, Child Again.  
Warnings: A little swearing, a whole lot of... cute:D;;  
Rated: R

Summary: Leon and Cloud have never liked each other. They've been rivals ever since they first set eyes on each other. But when science experiments go out of hand, and one of them gets the worst imaginable effects change his physique, it's bound to be the most eventful summer for both of them yet.

* * *

Squall raised an eyebrow in amusement.

A faint smirk was pulling at the corner of his lips, but somewhat reluctantly, he decided to suppress it, trying his best instead to maintain a rather neutral façade. He looked on straight ahead, staring dully at the wall on the opposite side of room as he squirmed one of his arms free from the vice-grip embrace he was being subjected to, taking the opportunity to pat dear old flustered Cloud's back as consolingly as he could.

The teenager, on the other hand, held nothing of the cool countenance that Squall himself possessed. He was a little busy in his attempt to pry the boy's attention away from his computer monitor whilst single-handedly renaming and moving one of the folders on his computer to a more discreet location.

Squall was pretty sure that, regardless of if he bothered checking or not, Cloud had on a violent flush that, as far as he could see from the brief side-glance downwards to the back of the blond's head, extended to his very ears. Okay, he had to admit that, albeit with a copious amount of amusement, perhaps it was a bit _too_ much for the teenager to stomach, mature as Squall may be.

But still. Very, very entertaining. He'd had a number of ideas of how Cloud would react in such a situation, but this was certainly much funnier than anything Squall himself could imagine.

In the corner of Cloud Strife's room was a worn black desk, housing odds and ends that had accumulated over the years. Cloud didn't like to throw anything away. Ever. He still had a paper ball that he made when he was still in kindergarten stowed away by the corner of a line of shabby books, even if it was crumpled and yellowed and barely held together under liberal amounts of scotch tape.

In any regards, there was a nice big space cleared out on the desk that was divided into two parts: one for things that needed flat surfaces, such as homework, paperwork and etcetera, and something bulky and permanent that needed a thick, flat surface, which was his computer.

As Squall had expected, the Strife family, being as thrifty as they were, did not have Internet. However, contrary to what he had initially imagined, it appeared that Cloud was stealing Internet from his neighbour's wireless network. Very sneaky, Cloud was.

Thus, as he had developed a slight head cold which thereby caused him to have a lot of free time on his hands, Squall had planted his round little bottom on the swiveling chair that had been tucked in neatly under the aforementioned desk and had taken the liberty to surf the Internet a little and clear up his e-mail inbox.

In his boredom also, he had taken to randomly clicking around (even if he knew that it was wrong to snoop around other people's personal files) and finally stumbled across something that he hadn't set his eyes on in a very, very long time.

And so, in an inconceivable state of wonder, he had double-clicked the folder and, at what he saw within, his eyes widened, and he was torn between grinning like an idiot and just. . . ahem.

But he wasn't surprised. Well, maybe a bit. But still, it was Cloud. And you know, he probably owned one too. You know.

A porn file.

Of course, at the most inopportune of moments, Cloud had chosen _that_ specific minute to pop his head into his room to check up on the delightful little toddler. In the span of time that it takes for one to realize that it is raining after taking a step outside during a thunderstorm, the blond teenager's face had drained of blood and he had rushed forward, arms outstretched, a panicked sounding catching in his throat as Cloud somehow tripped over the mess that was his own feet and fell, his face smacking against the edge of the swivelling chair, causing it to spin around.

Ignoring the throbbing sensation in his nose and at the corner of his mouth, Cloud had launched his body upwards onto his knees and threw his arms around Squall, stopping the chair's motion, poking his head from the side of the boy's elbow and using one of his hands to exit the windows displaying the contents of the folder the poor boy had stumbled across, much to Cloud's own chagrin and embarrassment.

Vaguely, buried somewhere deep beneath the amusement and sympathy and exasperation, Squall could feel something nostalgic and familiar stir within him, gurgling gently somewhere inside, like a steady stream of ripples that grew larger and more forceful as a result of a powerful sensation from beneath the ground. He could barely grasp the sudden change he was experiencing, but words couldn't suffice as he felt something inside him snap into place.

At that exact moment, Squall was suddenly very aware of how close he and Cloud were. The blond's grip around him had slackened by a slight, but his head was leaning heavily against Squall's twiggy body. His spikes were tickling Squall a little, and Cloud was breathing through his mouth, smooth waves of his hot breath rolling out and caressing the stretch of exposed skin at the boy's waist. A sharp tingle ran up his spine and suddenly, Squall felt himself tremble a little.

He withdrew his now shaking hand from where it had been patting Cloud's back, pressing his lips together firmly and clenching his fists tightly, swallowing hard. The boy was starting to feel a touch light-headed and his mind was consumed in a dense thicket of fog as he urged himself to figure out what that lurch, what that sensation he had suddenly felt was. It was something he had experienced before, but it must have been a long time ago if he couldn't remember it.

He barely registered the nervous cough and the hesitant words that Cloud was struggling with as he slowly shifted his gaze from the yellowed poster across the room to blankly stare at the teenager's slightly red face, Cloud hesitantly resting both hands on the boy's shoulders. He couldn't hear anything else but a dull buzzing, ringing incessantly in his ears. Only somewhat aware of his surroundings, Squall remained still, ignoring whatever the blond had to say as he withdrew, wracking his brain for the origin of that. . . that _feeling_.

It was strange.

It was only when he felt someone gently shake him a few times did he eventually snap out of his reverie, whipping his head up to meet the concerned gaze of Cloud's mother. He blinked once, eyes coming into focus once again as he looked up earnestly at her and then averted his gaze to Cloud who had taken to standing behind her in the corner of the room, body facing away from the child, a hand covering his mouth as he slouched slightly, expression strained.

Squall sighed slightly, a smile ghosting across his lips at that. Was Cloud been _that_ distressed that he had glimpsed some porn? He probably would have to cheer the blond up a little later or his conscience would never leave him in peace.

Glancing up as Cloud's mother tapped his nose twice and planted a peck on his forehead, his expression was that of slight surprise when she said, "So Demyx will baby-sit you since we won't be around. He's a good boy, so you behave for him, all right sweetie?"

What-the-what-the-what? Leave him alone with a baby-sitter?

"Where will Cloud be going?" Squall blurted out, eyes wide as he leaned forward and grasped the hem of her skirt loosely. She simpered softly, squatting down so that they were at eye level. One of her delicate hands was already gently patting his head.

"Well, Mr. Highwind asked him to make a delivery to Juno. It's very far, and there's a chance that Cloud may have to stay over at a motel or something for a night. Two, if the papers are processed late. I'll still be here, but I've got to go to my job, sweetheart, and the hospital is no place for a boy to stay day in and out," she explained patiently, her smile never once faltering. "Demyx will come along soon."

Demyx? Who the hell was Demyx?

"Why can't Yuffie baby-sit me?" Squall posed instead, still refusing to relinquish his grip on her skirt even if she had stood up and was making a move to leave the room. With a sigh, she shook her head a little, hands on her hips.

"I tried calling her, but I couldn't get her. She's been really busy lately. Don't worry, dear, Demyx is a nice boy and you'll like him. He's a bit like Yuffie, so you'll get along fine."

Then again, that actually didn't sound so appealing.

Cloud's mother had retreated to the kitchen to read the newspaper over a cup of tea. She had to wait until Demyx arrived to explain the ground rules, but if it meant Squall's safety and the house's security, she wouldn't mind arriving at the hospital a little later than usual. Her son, on the other hand, was supposed to leave for work immediately, but Squall noticed that he lingered around the house for just a little longer than necessary. Suddenly recalling the uneasy expression Cloud had been sporting earlier, Squall set out to corner the teenager before he left the house.

He was easy enough to find, musing quietly in the corner of the house. Cloud was facing the wall, his fine brows knitted together as a hand was covering his mouth, unsuccessfully concealing the flush that was spreading across his face.

Giving the blond a cursory glance, Squall approached him and tugged gently on his pant leg, eye immediately homing in on Cloud's as the teenager turned back slightly. He cocked his head to the side in question, patiently remaining where he was for a reaction or a few words or anything of the sort.

What he did notice was the twitch in one of Cloud's eyebrows and the deepened flush as the blond shrank slightly upon looking at the boy, Cloud clearing his throat a little awkwardly before averting his gaze and reluctantly squatting down to be at eye level with Squall.

Squall could practically see the cogs turning in Cloud's head in the struggle for explanations for the pornographic images stored away in his computer as dread and pure shame rolled off him in waves.

But Cloud didn't have anything to be ashamed about, right? He was still male, after all. What guy didn't have a porn file, or a stack of naughty magazines or. . . or. . .

And well, Squall didn't have any right looking through his desktop anyways! How did the kid even _know_ how to use a computer? Wasn't he an urchin and. . . Why was he so calm?! Wouldn't a kid who had just seen a whole collection of porn be red-faced and. . . and somewhat turned on? Hang on, maybe Squall was so calm because he was used to porn. . .? If _that_ were the case, and he was a street kid, then that must mean that. . . that. . .

The red drained from Cloud's face as he became as pale as a corpse.

Oh god.

Blinking, Squall cocked his head quizzically, unsure of what to make out of Cloud's blanch. He studied the blond for a silent moment, aware of the slight trace of fear in his eyes as he stared, perturbed, at the dark-haired boy. Suddenly worried that the little joke had gone a step too far, Squall immediately tried to decipher Cloud's train of thought.

Cloud pressed his lips into a firm line, eyebrows knitting together as his troubled gaze darted to the ground briefly. Clearing his throat, he raised his eyes to look once more at the boy, expression solemn as his jaw tightened slightly.

"Um, I think I should tell you about, ah, what you saw on my computer."

Squall stifled a snort, instead clearing his throat and looking at Cloud intently, trying to swallow back the rather smug smirk that was threatening to widen across his lips. The Talk. The Birds and The Bees. Where Babies Come From. _How_ Babies Came About Therein. This promised to be interesting.

Meanwhile, Cloud was internally berating himself about not locking his computer with a password, and wondering how the _fuck_ he was supposed to say something like 'Insert A Into B And Pull In And Out Really, Really Fast' to a 6-year-old out loud. Think, think, think. Should he use the stork theory? No, Squall had seen _pictures_ of naked women with. . . in their. . . and. . .

Maybe diagrams would do the trick?

Cloud paused momentarily before realization dawned upon him. He restrained himself from banging his forehead repeatedly against the wall.

Diagrams. Porn. Photos. Porn pictures. Images. Videos. Diagrams.

Yes. Cloud Strife, you are indeed a genius. Go ahead and scar the kid further with _more_ images depicting sexual acts.

"So, um," Cloud began, his voice just a notch higher than usual as he made an odd noise in the back of his throat. "Once you, ah, reach a certain age, you sort of, uh." _Need to wank off._ "You get. . . interested in girls."

Oh man, this was way too much. Squall was afraid that he would _implode_ from holding all that laughter in. Trying his best to maintain his innocent façade, Squall bit down on his lower lip and inclined his head to the side questioningly at the utterly debased expression on Cloud's face.

"Go on."

Cloud cringed slightly.

Was his theory with the Squall and the- and the- oh god, please don't let him be right.

"Well. When you get interested in girls. . . you want to, uh, spend time with her. Get to know her. Have sex with her. Oh _damn_ it."

"Cloud!" A pair of voices rang through the room, both incredulous and bowled over at his bluntness.

Squall turned to look at the two figures in the doorway. There was a tall, sturdily built teenager with dirt blond hair styled into something akin to a cross between the mullet and rattail haircuts. He had thrown on a loose cream coloured t-shirt over the faded blue sweater he was wearing – the shirt bearing a tribal-like design over the chest that was printed in a blue slightly darker than his sweater – and was sporting a pair of baggy blue jeans.

He looked absolutely scandalized, body curled backwards as though he were about sprint right out of there. His expression was that of pure horror, eyes wide open and mouth gaping as he furrowed a single eyebrow in astonishment.

"How the heck could you _say_ something like that to a _kid_?!" he retorted, arms flapping slightly at his sides as his shorter companion squinted uncertainly at Squall, leaning forwards a little to study the boy's expression.

Well, Squall could easily guess that that high-strung one was probably Demyx.

Cloud sighed irritably, eyes fluttering shut almost immediately as his default scowl set in place. His left hand had already risen to his temple, massaging it with his thumb as he cocked his head downwards, trying to ward off the pounding headache that was already picking at his brain.

Squall kind of understood why.

"Kids pick up on bad language! What if he goes off repeating what you just said in public?! Everyone and their _mothers_ will stare and gossip and you'll get the brunt of it! And the subject matter in question! Do you have any idea how he might misinterpret what you just said?! You have to handle that kind of thing delicately and the- the- you totally said the baddest of bad words!" Demyx ended fervidly, pointing an accusing finger at Cloud.

"Oh yeah?" The blond bit out with a slight growl. "Like 'sex' is any worse than 'fuc—"

"GAAAAAAH!" Demyx had leapt forward at that, diving face first into the ground as he slapped both hands on either side of Squall's head in order to protect his delicate ears from Cloud's potty language.

A smile flickered briefly on Squall's lips before his bit it down once again, eyes shining with amusement.

Demyx was jabbering rapidly now, and though he had his hands over Squall's ears, the boy could hear him even if the teenager was speaking at a rate too fast for Squall to bother paying his full attention. Cloud's scowl had grown even deeper as Demyx continued to tell him off for his indiscretion.

"Who gives a shit if I'm to the point?" Cloud interjected hotly, voice eerily soft and controlled. "_Everyone_ is talking about sex. Sex, sex, sex, sex, se—"

"DON'T SAY THE WORD AROUND KIDS!"

"_SEX_."

"ARGGGGH! BAD WORD!"

"Look, it's not like it's any worse than f—"

"DON'T SAY IT!"

Cloud rolled his eyes and shot Demyx another glare as he pointedly gestured at Squall, who had a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as his eyes glanced from one to the other, evidently entertained by the exchange.

Suddenly aware that he was basically gripping the boy's head in his hands, Demyx immediately let go of Squall and, with the momentum from the force of the motion as well as losing his only form of support, waved his arms wildly as he toppled back and banged his head against the hard parquet floor unceremoniously, yelping in pain and surprise.

Squall could hear Cloud heaving a tired sigh and he looked on curiously as Demyx's companion approached them and squatted down. He had brilliantly blue eyes and a sandy kind of hair colour that had been side swept and then spiked. Looking no older than 14 or 15 at most, Squall couldn't help but feel that this guy was somehow related to that Sora kid he had seen hanging around, what with his eye colour and facial features.

His semi-worried gaze flickered from Demyx to the other two, and he gave them slight grin.

"Don't worry about Demyx. His head's made of enough hard things to have survived continual cranium trauma," he said easily, responded to with an indignant cry from the older teen.

"In any case, why were you guys talking about. . . procreation?" he asked Cloud with an inquisitive look on his face.

As Cloud opened his mouth to respond, Squall turned around and gave his own explanation expressly without the slightest hint of unease.

"I saw Cloud's pornography."

A stunned silence filled the living room for what seemed like hours as the three pairs of eyes that had homed in on the would-be sweet-and-untainted 6-year-old or so boy began to glaze over, minds reeling and jaws slackening as the older, 'maturer' male specimens froze at Squall's absolute nonchalance.

Cloud's face had drained itself of blood, the oldest teenager growing as white as a sheet as Roxas stared on at Squall with an expression that looked torn between breaking out in hysterical laughter and frowning disapprovingly. Demyx, on the other hand, being as blank as a piece of paper, merely blinked thrice before letting slip a sound that sounded very suspiciously like, ". . . ah?"

After another deafening moment of flabbergasted silence and a few light coughs from Squall himself, Roxas finally shook himself free of the spell and could only manage to say one thing, and even then it was with much difficulty as he had to form the suitable words on the tip of tongue before he could deliver his astonishment in a coherent sentence.

"You know what porn is?"

Squall raised a fine eyebrow and slowly nodded once.

Roxas' mouth fell open once again, opening and closing repeatedly so much so that, to Squall, it made him look like a goldfish.

There was that long, awkward silence again. It was definitely getting old. Squall frowned lightly, shifting his weight to his other foot as he began to fidget a little under all that scrutiny. After a while, he began scratching his arm, eyes darting to the clock face on the other wall as he mouthed the seconds that passed, waiting for someone to break the ice.

Eventually, someone did.

"So," Demyx attempted, voice an octave higher than normal. He glanced around nervously, a sheepish grin on his face.

"What's for lunch?"

**xxx**

"Right. So, no talking on the phone around the kid, no alcohol involving water near breakable things, and no dangerous stunts for hours. Something like that?"

"And refrain from eating anywhere but the kitchen and living room," Mrs. Strife responded serenely, raising a brow at the teenager. Demyx flashed her a mischievous grin.

"And no food except for in the kitchen and in front of the TV. Okay."

"Are you sure you can manage it?"

"Yep! Basically no whipping out!"

Cloud eyed Demyx wearily, wondering why the hell his mum had hired such an imbecile to take care of the house and baby-sit Squall. He crossed his arms, the scowl on his face deepening as he kept his icy gaze trained on Demyx who was now bending over and grinning widely at the only brunet in the room.

"'Sup, kiddo!" he said cheerily. "The name's Demyx. What's yours?"

"Squall," replied the boy uncertainly, looking up at the teenager. He had a hint of a dimple in his left cheek, and his sea green eyes were sparkling sincerely as they lit up with his smile. For some strange reason, Demyx's presence somehow set him at ease, and evidently, that's exactly what Squall did. He raised a hand and gently threaded them through the teen's hair, curling his fingers into a slight fist and tugging gently.

"The 70's called and they want their haircut back."

Roxas snorted loudly as Cloud and his mother both merely raised their eyebrows, the lady smiling at that frank statement.

It took a while, but after a few beats of silence (with Demyx turning that sentence over and over in his head) the response Squall received was a hearty guffaw as Demyx gently ruffled the boy's hair, grinning merrily. Squall was pleased at this, beaming at him as he raised his arms for Demyx to pick him up.

The teenager promptly scooped him up into his arms, shifting the boy slightly in his hold to help him get as comfortable as possible. Squall leaned into Demyx naturally and tucked his chin above the teenager's shoulder, expression that of contentment as he smiled up at Cloud and his mother.

To his slight surprise, Cloud didn't smile back. He didn't even nod or anything.

"Well then, I suppose that's all. You're capable of handling yourself, and the emergency numbers are on the refrigerator. I'll see you later, dears," Mrs. Strife nodded, smiling before she took Cloud's hand and led them both out of the house.

As the door shut with a firm click behind them, they took a few steps to their parked car in silence, Cloud's mother sliding into the driver's seat as her son buckled himself up beside her. His eyes remained on the window overlooking their front yard, giving him a clear view of the living room. His eyebrows furrowed and the frown formed once again on his face.

When the car didn't start after about five minutes, he turned around to meet his mother's questioning gaze.

"Are you upset about something, sweetheart?"

He shrugged noncommittally, grunting in response.

"Don't you start with me. Is it about leaving Squall alone?"

Cloud glanced sideways at his mother briefly, quickly bringing himself to stare at some random object some distance away.

"Now, there's nothing wrong with leaving Squall with a baby-sitter. After all, that's what they're paid to do," she began, patient as ever. "Demyx is a fine boy and he's darling enough to offer his services completely free because he knows you and I are very busy. And besides, wasn't he a friend of yours while you were still swimming?"

Cloud refused to acknowledge anything she had just said, instead keeping quiet.

She sighed slightly. "Okay, maybe he wasn't a friend. But you left Squall with Yuffie and you didn't get worked up over it."

"I'm not getting worked up over anything," he snapped hotly.

"You are."

"--Not."

Cloud's mother kept quiet for a moment, studying her son and his curious manner for a good minute or so before everything clicked. Her frown dissolved and revealed an understanding grin, eyes smiling once again as that twinkle returned to her kind gaze.

"You're upset that Squall didn't resist your leaving a bit more?"

He averted his eyes.

She chuckled, reaching over and squeezing his hand gently.

**xxx**

"I do not believe this."

Roxas peered over the screen of the Game Boy in his hands, glancing backwards to find himself looking at a vaguely amused 6-year-old past the shoulder of the teenager who had not only voiced that assertion, but who was also serving as a sort of cushiony wall that he was able to lean against.

"'Sup?" he asked simply, thumb automatically mashing the console's 'A' button as his eyes travelled from the boy to Demyx; or more specifically, to the only visible portion of Demyx's face available to him, which constituted his right ear. The battle theme that was blasting from the relatively powerful speakers in his Game Boy started to swell to a slight crescendo as whatever battle he was fighting began intensifying.

"This kid," Demyx began hollowly, the would-be statement hanging in the air as he gawked at the small brunet who was fluidly sliding his fingers over the bottom of a finely lacquered wooden box that had been propped open. Squall looked up at the teenager with a smug grin.

"Yeah?" Roxas nudged the conversation along apathetically, returning to his Game Boy.

"He beat me at _poker_. And _chess_. And now, he's creaming me at _backgammon_. _**Backgammon**_. What kind of _freaky_ super power do you _own_, kid? I mean, how do you _do_ that?!" he asked frankly, tone and expression that of complete _awe_ as he gazed, stricken, at Squall, who merely raised an eyebrow in response, a small, amused smile on his lips.

_Years and years of baby-sitting a wannabe-ninja girl with far too much energy, my young padawan._

Squall sighed softly as he leaned back against the foot of the couch, stretching his legs out before him onto the carpeted floor and blowing a tuft of hair out of his eyes. His gaze wandered to the open window that overlooked the front yard, noting the slightly long grass that would need cutting, to the vague hints of tyre treads in the dust in the driveway, and to the bright blue of the sky as patches of fluffy white clouds floated by indolently with the warm summer winds.

Absentmindedly, he decided that that one cloud to the left over there kind of reminded him of Yoda's head.

He groaned internally, trying his best to keep himself from cringing violently. Okay, so he was sort of a Star Wars fan and he liked science fiction and stuff like that. It was just, you know, interests. You know. _Interesting_ interests hence his being interested enough to buy a few comic issues, and a couple figurines, and all the movies in the series, and. . .

In any case! It was just a lapse. Sure, Squall liked reading, but he, too, had other hobbies. And it didn't help that that Roxas kid was wearing a shirt with a big fat, 'Lego Star Wars,' printed on the front, with a small black Lego Darth holding a plastic lightsaber as he (it?) battled an equally awesome-looking Lego Obi-Wan Kenobi.

God, he missed that game.

Not, uh, like he _owned_ it or anything. Nope.

Okay, dammit _fine_. So he had followed that cult. Whoopdeedoo. Big deal.

Rubbing his temples a little irately, Squall sat up straighter and squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to knock out those thoughts. On one note, he was glad that he wasn't _completely_ losing it and still retained a great deal of mental prowess belonging to his rightfully 17-year-old self. That was very good. He was getting worried that he had been integrating himself far too well into this. . . this. . . infantile routine. At the end of the day, he was still a teenager and god so help him, he _would_ return to his own body and fix. . . _everything_.

Well, ignoring the fact, of course, that he technically _was_ in his own body and he had no idea what it was that needed fixing. Trivial details.

Somewhat startled by this strange outburst of optimism, Squall had barely realized when Demyx had left his comfortable seat on the floor (and thereby forcing Roxas to lie down on the ground for lack of anything else to lean up against) and had returned with three mugs of hot chocolate.

The teenager had waved the mug slightly in front of Squall's face, gesturing for him to take it – which Squall did – before he set the third mug by Roxas' head, earning a grunt in acknowledgement as the spiky-haired blond started to mash the buttons on his Game Boy a little more violently now.

"So, kiddo," Demyx had started, sitting down beside Squall and leaning back against the couch as well. "You stay with Cloud long?"

"A couple weeks."

Demyx nodded automatically, taking a quick swig of his drink. Following suit, Squall blew on his a little before taking a few careful sips.

"Hey, wasn't Cloud on the swim team or something? He quit last year, didn't he?"

Two pairs of eyes immediately homed in on Roxas who had taken to staring at the ceiling thoughtfully, console loose in his grip as he curled his thumbs into his fists, leaving the game on to run with some generic city theme playing, muffled, from the speakers that were partially covered by his fingers.

"Yeah, actually. Right before Show Time. You were on the team, too – right, Demyx? What was up with that?"

Demyx was silent for a moment, a light frown pulling on his lips before he shook his head gently, setting down his mug. "I don't know, man," he said. "It was pretty weird. I mean, Cloud was our best swimmer and he was raring and ready to go, y'know? And then this one day, he comes into practice all distracted-like and pale."

"We wanted to speak to him, but because he was _the_ Strife, and Leon's 'aficionados' were constantly looming about and making their presence known, it was hard. And somehow, he didn't want to talk to anyone at all. He was like that for four days, maybe. And man, Cloud was losing weight like mad – it was like he didn't eat or sleep."

Roxas rolled over onto his side, eyes intently watching Demyx's as he explained with a sort of reluctance.

"Anyways, three hours before the team was ready to board the bus for Show Time, Coach gets a call from Cloud. And he says," pausing, Demyx crossed his arms, frown deepening by just a bit as he let out a sigh. "Dropping swim for good. Sorry, Coach."

A long, stretched out silence filled in the void afterwards, each of them lingering in their own thoughts.

Squall was slightly taken aback at this information, first and foremost rueful at the lack of control he had over his so-called admirers. The bullying and the pranks – he could safely wager that the textbook ripping had been the brainchild of some thick junior of his in the track team. Even so, he and Cloud had always been at each other's throats then, but. . . even _he_ knew better than to sink so low.

In any regards, there was one more thing to puzzle over.

Cloud had be coming into swim practice distracted and. . . pale? Squall could barely imagine anything fazing the blond to the extent that he would have been shocked so _thoroughly_, affecting him until he stopped eating and lost sleep. Gosh, what had _he_ been doing then. . .? Squall thought for a moment.

Show Time wasn't a proper competition, but it was what the students called the chain of athletic contests that were being held throughout that one month. He had been busy training for the hurdles and the shot putt. He couldn't remember a thing about Cloud then; only that he had noted being 'happy' to not have had the 'blond idiot' in his way for once.

"Ah, well. Past is the past," Demyx conceded finally, before he suddenly realized that he was being far too depressing for his own good. Squall's own good. Yeah, they needed to be loud and happy! They were young, weren't they?

"Let's not talk about gloomy things! Come on, more energy! Hey, I tell you what, let's go play basketball or something!" he said with much gusto, a bubbly grin on his face as his gaze darted between Roxas and Squall encouragingly, eyes twinkling.

With a raised brow, Roxas interjected, "Now if only you channelled all that 'positive energy' into _not_ acting like flailing fish half the time. It's a wonder you're even competent at the only job you have."

Feeling frustrated with himself, Squall's eyebrows furrowed and he was about to voice out a question and simultaneously, Demyx himself had opened his mouth to retort, but just then, a shrill, "DO YOU LIKE WAFFLES?" tore through the air, causing all three of them to jump as Demyx fell flat on his face, squashing his nose into the hard parquet.

An expression of pure amazement replaced the blank look on the brunet's face as he stared on at Demyx who was scrambling with what would be a cellular phone that was caught in his pocket (all the while wincing at the sheer volume of the following, "DO YOU LIKE PANCAKES? YEAH, WE LIKE PANCAKES!" as he struggled to get the vibrating phone out of his pants).

After what seemed like several minutes (with the song being repeated a second time), Demyx successfully managed to fish it out of his jeans, thrusting it up into the air with a yell of triumph before realization dawned upon him, Demyx clumsily fumbling with it a second later, flipping it open and pressing it against his ear.

A small smile curled at Squall's lips as a slightly helpless look formed on his face, exhaling through his nose and shaking his head a little at the blond's antics. Maybe, if he had been looking for a 'dumb blond' to pick on – even if he was just clumsy and not dumb – Demyx would have likely been the most appropriate target. But then again, if Demyx was everything like Yuffie (and he nearly was), then they would have actually gotten along just as well.

"WHAT?! RIGHT NOW?!"

Squall's left eye twitched slightly.

Yeah, he was pretty much right.

Demyx's eyes were nearly popping out of his socket as he turned to stare incredulously at Roxas, gesturing wildly at his phone with his free hand as his mouth opened and closed rapidly, completely apprehensive of whatever the speaker was saying on the other end. At one point, if it were even possible, Demyx's eyes widened even more as he whipped his head around and focused all his attention on the conversation at hand.

"No!" he cried, horror-stricken. "No! No way! You can't be doing this to me! I-I-I've got a job and I promised- I promised- and _what_? _**What**_?! You- you're not- But- And-"

There was a brief, yet eerily silent pause.

"_What the hell did you just say?! _"

Squall watched on with slight detachment as a slender shard of fear that was nestling comfortably in the pit of his stomach began to swell and gently overtake his initial amusement. Demyx grew progressively incensed, his flustered 'flailing fish' disposition completely lost now as his face became even redder, lips pressed together severely until they were completely white, forming a stern, firm line.

Anxious, Squall sat up straight, trying to make sense of what little Demyx was now spluttering out disbelievingly at certain intervals as his body grew stiffer and tenser. Roxas had already discarded his Game Boy, scrambling up onto his feet and discreetly wiggling his toes to regain the feeling in his legs. Expression set seriously as the teenager intently listened; Roxas took a tentative step towards the slightly older blond, halting abruptly when he received the business end of a brutal glare from Demyx.

With a low growl, Demyx snapped his phone shut.

The sharp sound reverberated succinctly through the room.

Roxas and Squall swallowed simultaneously.

Demyx inhaled deeply, eyes squeezing shut as his eyebrows knitted together.

And then, the dam broke.

"Oh my _god_, we're in the _Nationals_ and _I'm not even **there**_. I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to _die_- shit, shit, shit, _how am I supposed to get there_?! I need to stay here and- and- and- Roxas is a- and _oh god_ what about our routines- and why didn't anyone _tell me_- and oh my god, _what did I do **wrong**_? What, God, _WHAT_?" he wailed, falling to his knees and pulling at his hair.

Squall opened his mouth for a moment to respond as Roxas uttered something soothingly similar to, "Don't spaz out, Demyx. We'll think of something," before he felt himself get caught in a whirl of blond and blue, a sharp jerk to his stomach causing a would-be yelp of pain and surprise getting caught in his throat as he felt himself barraging through the room at a dizzying speed.

Vaguely, he thought he heard a panicked squeak from the other teenager, but he was too busy trying to keep the bile from rising to his throat as he noticed the front door slamming shut behind them, his body being tossed violently into the air before he landed with a heavy 'THUD' on the sun-warmed leathers of a car seat.

Dazed, Squall hazily struggled to prop himself up on his elbows when he heard the prominent click of a seatbelt, the sound of the key turning in the ignition and revving up the engine resonating through the whole car.

The rev of the engine as the key turned in the ignition – as well the prominent click of a seatbelt – was all Squall could hear as he struggled to prop himself up on his elbows. Still disoriented from the rough handling, he held his face in his hands and tried to steady his focus.

"Hang on tight, mis amigos!"

Squall felt the blood drain from his face.

Oh god, no.

A little later, Squall knew that, if asked about _that_ particular experience, he would only be able to recall a handful of things. He knew that he briefly saw his short 17 years play before his eyes. Things like victories, losses. His parents. The first time he managed to win a race in school. That one time when his dad took him to the beach to eat some ice cream and to go fishing. Mundane things that make life more colourful.

He also knew that his back was being _vacuumed_ by the backseat as the car lurched forward _indefinitely_. And that all he heard aside from the thunderous engine was a sole voice shrieking the whole time.

It most definitely was not Squall. He'd had enough of his father's manic 'race car' driving, in addition to Yuffie's overenthusiastic 'attempts' behind the wheel, to be _too_ scared. No, Squall hadn't been afraid. He hadn't been the one screaming. In fact, the boy was strangely calm and completely collected as he simply made good each memory that he had, a slight prayer steadily rolling off his lips noiselessly.

Roxas, on the other hand, was crumpled on the floor of the car somewhere beside him. Faintly, Squall could only recall the blond teen's face pressing into the dusty mat, his legs thrashing upright in the air as one of his sneakers came loose, dropping onto the car seat and promptly bouncing up and back behind the headrest with the sheer velocity. He had wondered at one point if Roxas was still caught in that position or if he had had the opportunity to right himself.

Everything had been rushing by so fast; the would-be panorama was nothing more than a grotesque blur of colours that began to make him feel like he was getting coked up and high on some substance. Unable to hold out anymore, Squall had squeezed his eyes shut and just prayed that they wouldn't be involved in an accident.

And finally, there was Demyx – safely buckled into the driver's seat, he was. Of course, that did nothing to hide the fact that he was also being sucked into his seat as well. Arms outstretched before him stiffly as his sweaty palms grappled at the steering wheel, Demyx's foot was jammed all the way down on the pedal, mouth hanging wide open as a singularly _seismic_ scream erupted from him all throughout the 'drive'.

Granted, it didn't help that Demyx was a few years short of legally owning a driver's license, but as Squall managed the only glimpse he was capable of at the speed meter, he let out a pathetic whimper and curled into a slightly foetal position.

An underage driver going 120 over the speed limit?

It was something he would never ever forget, safe to say.

In what seemed like a matter of _mili_seconds, Squall was already staggering onto the searing hot pavement, losing his footing in his daze and tripping over his own feet as he dropped to his knees and slapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stop from hurling. Bile was already rising and _clawing_ at his throat fiercely, the boy squeezing his eyes shut and trying his best to force all the contents of his stomach down.

Completely dizzy and feeling utterly weak, Squall groaned at the increasingly violent pounding in his temples as someone grabbed him by the armpits, threw him over a sturdy shoulder, and then began running like a chicken that had been set on fire. The boy squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself unconscious.

By the time he had come around, Squall found that he was lying flat on his back on something cushiony, like a bench. There was a strong smell of bleach that hung in the air, and strangely, it helped settle his stomach a little. Tilting his head to the side, he managed to flutter his eyes only half-open, vision blurred as he peered tiredly at the dimness ahead. Slowly, he blinked the moisture out of his eyes and he looked a little harder, squinting at the slight figure that was leaning against a wall.

"You up, finally?"

Squall's eyes shot open and he scrambled to sit up, overcome by an overwhelming vertigo before he had to make do with rolling onto his side. Wiping away the sweat from his brow and around his eyes with a hasty brush of the back of his hand, Squall looked up at the approaching person with an expression mixed with awe and relief. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that he wasn't hallucinating.

He could have _sung_ with joy.

"De-Demyx?"

"The one and only, kiddo!" grinned the boy, bending over and ruffling his hair fondly. A look of uncontained _jubilation_ filled Squall completely as he threw his arms around the teenager's waist, squeezing him tight. Amused, and to some extent _confused_, Demyx's grin merely widened as he let his hands rest on Squall's shoulders, slowly sliding around his head and patting it lightly in a slight embrace.

"You're alive! I'm alive! You-You're-"

Demyx's smile immediately disappeared and was replaced with a miniscule pout as he sniffed dramatically.

"My driving wasn't _that_ bad," he grumbled crossly, prying Squall's arms off of him as he squatted down to be at proper eye level with the boy. He cupped the boy's chin, forcing his face down so that Demyx could look the boy square in the eye, expression completely serious, yet anxious to a degree.

He brushed away Squall's bangs, hand pressing flat against the boy's forehead.

"You're okay, right?" Demyx asked, voice somewhat hollow. His expression was now one of deep concern, tone taking a more panicked edge. "You passed out, and I was really worried about you. How are you-"

"I'm okay," Squall interjected lamely, a timid smile on his face as he beamed at the teenager. "I'm okay." He nodded in affirmation.

Demyx faltered, hand hovering hesitantly over the brunet's forehead before he withdrew it.

"Oy, Demyx! Hurry up, we're on right now!"

Demyx turned to look back, and at that moment, Squall could only realize two things as his eyebrows furrowed.

Firstly, he wondered why he hadn't noticed Demyx's clothing at all before. The blond was wearing a white full dress military uniform, the silver buttons and cuffs that had been sewn on firmly glinting in an almost polished manner under the dim lights.

A blue sash had been folded into a moderately wide strip, buckled on diagonally across his body, securing the uniform in place. A silver tassel had been affixed across his chest regally on top of that strip, his stiff blue collar lined with silver and bearing a small insignia of the school at each end. Fitted tightly around his waist was a blue belt, the buckle a gleaming silver.

Demyx's pristinely white uniform looked newly pressed, a stark contrast of his black shoes that were as dark as night, blue felt spats to match his collar and belt buttoned over those shoes. They even _sounded_ polished as they squeaked when he stood up to his full height, suddenly looking more mature and grown up than he had ever before.

Under his arm was a tall white shako, adorned with a blue plume and a blue strip around the top that was also lined with minute silver rope. Attached above the small white visor was a silver plate bearing the school badge. He was wearing a pair of white gloves with silver buttons, and his dirt blond hair had been gelled and combed back smartly, neatly.

As he jingled with a slight step towards the other figure, Demyx's eyes darted away diffidently from the boy; unaware of the awed look he was receiving from Squall.

He paused, inhaling slowly through his nose as his fluttered shut for a brief moment, a small prayer on his lips.

Squall stood up, walking slowly to Demyx's side and raising a hand. He meant to gently grasp the teen's freshly ironed trousers, but he couldn't. He stared, transfixed, at the older boy.

When Demyx finally exhaled, his sea green eyes slowly opened, revealing the fire of pure determination burning deep within his gaze as he set his jaw and, bending over to retrieve a black mace with a silver handle and crown, marched valiantly out the door, fitting the hat securely on his head and buckling it under his chin. He glanced to the right, nodding curtly at the other person before taking confident strides onto a well-manicured field to an army of smartly dressed white uniforms.

As though hypnotised, not once did Squall blink, eyes never leaving Demyx as the teenager took his position on the pitch and brought his hands together closely on the mace head.

Something warm rested on his head, and Squall felt himself snapping out of the spell, looking up to find the familiar face of someone smiling down serenely at him. Someone he had only earlier recognized before his attention had been stolen away completely by the blond teenager.

Secondly. . . Secondly, he didn't know why he hadn't noticed this person earlier.

"Yuffie?"

His whispering voice was drowned out by the sudden rush of cymbals and snare drums as the wild roars and cheers from the audience outside rose by a notch before falling completely silent as the quivering timbre of the flutes and trumpets began to grow louder. Squall closed his mouth in resignation; eyes still on the girl as she gently wheeled him back into the building and lead them away from the music.

Step after step, his eyes flickered up ahead, not daring to look back. His legs felt heavier with each step. His footfalls echoed loudly through the hollow, dimly lit hallways as his eyes roamed the dusty linoleum floors. His hands were jammed into his pockets and finally, when she came to a stop, he, too, halted.

His eyes were still trained on the floor, lips still twisted in his usual, thoughtful frown as Yuffie smiled softly at him and slowly lowered herself to sit down on the bottom steps of a flight of stairs located directly in front of the boy.

She allowed the silence to stretch only for a moment longer before she finally opened her mouth to speak.

"So how's the body been treating you?" she asked simply. Squall's gaze darted upwards before he sighed, standing straighter and running a hand through his hair.

"I've gotten too used to it," he replied tiredly, fisting his hand in his hair and tugging slightly at his short brown tresses. "I've gotten the hang of being a kid, and I've managed to blend in well enough – make them think I really _am_ some 6-year-old. But," he paused for a while, looking down at his feet before sighing again.

"Play time's over, Yuffie," he said, looking directly at her. His voice was that of deep conviction, an air of exhaustion and desperation hanging gloomily around him. At that moment, he felt a million years old in trying to maintain this ridiculous façade, as though he'd been forced to lie all his life. He was so sick and _tired_ of being something he was not. The indescribable loneliness that he was experiencing was tearing him to pieces because he was fighting this horrible fight all alone. Unable to speak his mind, unable to be taken seriously, unable to act on his feelings. . .

He couldn't take it anymore.

"Is there. . ." his voice faltered slightly. "Is there any news about the antidote?"

Squall remained silent in his patience as Yuffie's gaze grew downcast, the teenage girl scratching her cheek in an almost sheepishly apologetic manner. She coughed lightly, clearing her throat before she drew her legs together and wound her arms around them, head inclining to the side and resting neatly on her bare knees.

"About that," she began with a small sigh. "I've got good news and bad news."

Apprehensively, Squall stood at attention; listening raptly and leaning in a little closer as his body stiffened. He was edgy, expression grave, and Yuffie glanced at him before playfully smacking him upside the head with a grin. "Don't be so tense; it's not _that_ bad, okay? Relax a little, Leon."

Leon.

How long had it been since someone last called him that?

A part of him grew cold as his heart clenched painfully with realization.

. . . he wasn't used to that _name_.

"In any case," Yuffie said. "I've managed to talk Professor Ansem into helping us out. He said that he and one of his students at a local university will be working on the antidote," she paused, glancing at the boy. "We'll have to swing by their place later. They need some of your DNA – hair samples; stuff like that."

He nodded uncertainly.

". . . How long will it take?" _Years?_

Yuffie's eyes averted to the ceiling as she bit her bottom lip, leaning backwards in deep thought. "I'd say. . . Well. . ."

She glanced at him.

"Aerith and I _had_ worked out part of the anti. And when the Professor agreed to it, he managed to get into the library to dig out the book that contained original recipe for it, too. Since Aerith and I are somewhat well-read with the language Cetra, he scanned the recipe and passed it to both of us to decipher," she explained in an as-a-matter-of-factly tone.

"Give or take a few days, it should be done by the end of the month. New moon and all – some moonflowers we need will be in bloom by then."

Squall paused heavily, looking hard at the girl.

"Are you. . . absolutely sure? There isn't some catch? That I have to wait for 3 months before my body goes back to normal? I-I. . ." his breath hitched slightly as his heart sank. "I won't. . . lose my memory, will I?"

She looked at him squarely, a thin smile on her face.

"The only catch is that you can only make the anti once a month. If you miss the new moon, you'll have to wait for the next month to try again. You're pretty lucky that the end of the month is only a week and a half away, so cheer up, okay?"

"I. . . suppose," he replied with a slight exhalation of air, relief washing through him in waves as he crossed his arms and shifted his weight to his left foot. After a brief instance, he frowned thoughtfully and turned to Yuffie once again. "Are you sure?"

"Are _you_ sure that you can last until the end of the month?" she retorted with a slight giggle. "I mean, you're staying at _Cloud Strife's house_, after all. Here I was thinking that his house would be half-gone by the next time I came around."

"It might as well, at the rate they're going," he muttered to himself darkly.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Huh," she responded charily, crossing her arms and stretching her legs as she sat up straight. Yuffie cocked an eyebrow, scrutinizing Squall. He refused to give in, matching her stare head on with furrowed brows and an equally defiant look of his own. Squall scowled sternly, leaning forward and narrowing his eyes irately.

Now, let it be known that Yuffie was no idiot. Sure, she could be unbearably perky-happy at times, and maybe even _dense_ to a _fault_ when she had no inclination to think very hard. Nevertheless, she was extremely sensitive to other people's emotions and she knew for a fact that Squall was being jittery and secretive.

Call it a woman's intuition, if you would. She could easily tell that he was hiding something, and considering their current situation, it seemed very unlikely that there was anything worth concealing – especially between them. Unless, of course, it was something stupid like him wetting the bed or something equally demoralising like that. Even so, Squall wasn't the type to linger on anything like that. He'd keep silent on it and make it seem as though it never happened until everyone forgot about it completely. That was just the way he was.

In any case, there was just no reason for Squall to hide anything from Yuffie.

. . . unless maybe something had happened between him and Cloud?

Oh right, _Cloud_. They seemed to be pret-ty darn close now. Spikes must have worked his magic and turned Squall into pure goo.

But, nah. Couldn't have been _that_. . .

Could it?

Yuffie opened her mouth to speak, hesitating just for a moment, but that moment was all it took to steal away her momentum because at _that precise moment_, something _white_ had sprinted across the hall in a matter of _nanoseconds_ and _jumped_ on the poor, small brunet boy; his long, sturdy arms wrapping around Squall's head and squeezing almost painfully as it sent the two of them toppling them into a tangled heap of limbs and ropes as the force of the tackle caused them to slide a few paces away across the floor.

"WE WON, WE WON, _WE WON_!"

Before Squall could groan in pain, a resounding roar tore through the building, bouncing off the walls as the heavy rush of feet poured into the corridors. From all corners, red-faced teenagers with mussed hair, dishevelled white-and-blue uniforms, and 1,000 watt grins on their faces were tumbling and tripping over each other, half of them clinging to one another in tight hugs as the others danced through the hallway and high-fived their friends, laughing and cheering at the top of their lungs.

All throughout, the same cry was repeated over and over again.

"We _won_!"

**xxx**

  
The victory party was held at the town's only pizza parlour, and the adults who had promised to foot the bill (upon their victory) had cheerfully told them to eat until they were in a food coma. Not just the band members, but the school fan club (which _did_ exist, and in a very organised hierarchy, to boot), too filled the entire premise, their shining brass instruments lined up against a wall and black berets strewn all over the floor. 

Somehow or rather, Squall had gotten dragged along and was sitting at a table with Yuffie and a handful of somewhat familiar persons. Due to his height, the only thing visible of the boy was his head and a bit of his shoulders, but nothing more. No one was really aware of his presence, in any case, because everyone was chattering excitedly with one another, and a handful of fan club members were passing around their cameras to take photographs or to show the band members what they had managed to catch of them during the competition.

Quietly, Squall managed to recognise a few faces in the crowd. Most of them were fan club members who came to his sporting events – easily identifiable by the telltale white headbands that had been tied around their foreheads – but he was surprised to find a couple classmates with whom he sometimes hung out with were band members.

At his table, Sora and Tidus were seated directly opposite Squall, chatting animatedly with Yuffie (who, as it turned out, was the manager for the band). Tidus' white fan club headband had been knotted around his right upper arm, and he had a black camera looped around his neck. Sora, on the other hand, was in the white uniform, though he had rolled up the sleeves and had discarded his belt and ornamental cords.

In the back of his mind, Squall somehow knew that Tidus was the school's star blitzball player, and vaguely he wondered how the blond had the time to juggle being a member of the fan club and yet still play sports actively.

Whooping and cheering disrupted his train of thought as he looked around to see everyone banging their fists on their tables, clamouring for Demyx, calling for a speech. The blond drum major was bashfully attempting to decline, face growing a violent shade of red, but in a matter of moments, he had been pushed and shoved by his adoring fans to the front of the restaurant.

Immediately, a hush fell upon the crowd, and everyone – including the adults, waiters and restaurateurs – was looking intently at him, their eyes shining in appreciation.

Awkwardly, Demyx cleared his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head.

"Boy, did they pick the wrong guy for _this_ job. . ." he muttered, but everyone heard it and chuckled good naturedly.

There was some murmur of encouragement from a handful of people in the front, and a stray, "Get on with it!" that eventually got Demyx to wizen up and at least _attempt_ a halfway-decent speech.

"So, uh," he began, assuming a slightly more serious expression, "We, uh, we won." Approving cheers and more table banging. Demyx grew a little more heartened at that. He straightened up and grinned. "And we won pret-ty damn _glorious_-like, if I do say so myself. Which I am. Did. Okay."

Ignoring the sniggers, Demyx continued on, bolstered. "And it took a lot out of us to win. And I do mean _a lot_. You guys should know really well. Especially you, Pence."

A plump teenager with dark, messy hair laughed and raised a hand with an almost-but-not-quite apologetic grin. Immediately, the other band members around him started either ruffling his hair fondly, or used their instrument cases to pretend to whack him over the head.

"And even though I _appreciate_ the sentiments in keeping certain big events like us-getting-into-the-Nationals a surprise, especially to someone, like me, who has worked his _ass_ off for that very reason, _I highly deplore_ keeping it a secret for far too long _until you forget to inform me altogether_."

There were a few awkward coughs and small chortles.

"Not funny, okay. I totally freaked at that," Demyx frowned. "I mean, I had to _drive_ here. And I'm not even supposed to! This cop was chasing me all the way and the coach had to step in and 'negotiate' with him once I arrived. By the way, how is the officer?" Demyx asked, turning to Yuffie.

"He's still out!"

"Ah, okay then."

Squall rolled his eyes, arms crossing across his chest.

"But seriously guys, I had to baby-sit, okay? And Roxas gets _motion sickness_. Think of them! Think of the poor people who cannot drive, and who get carsick, and who can barely see straight because of their poor undeveloped immunity to speeding! The trauma was horrible, okay? And-"

"Oh, for the love of everything that is sacred and holy, will you shut up already so we can _eat_?!"

There was a roar of approval and people shouting for the pizzas to be served. Demyx pouted, narrowing his eyes as he sighed in resignation.

So much for his 'adoring fans'.

And so, with that, the pizza parlour once again buzzed with life as the kitchen went into overdrive, churning out pizza after pizza, the kids toasting one another with pints of soda and juice. There were loud cheers coming from one end of the place – some sort of eating or arm-wrestling contest was going on, as it appeared. Squall wouldn't have known even if he had tried.

In any case, there they were, eating. Squall helped himself to a slice of a pizza that had been heavily peppered with pepperoni and was nibbling his food quietly, surveying the place as the others made small talk. It was sort of fun, just hanging out. He found that he rather liked sitting around with food, being entertained by some stray gossip or the other by the people who were sitting with him.

Better yet, he could actually _relate_ to the piece of gossip that Tidus and Yuffie were exchanging.

"So like, I heard that Zell Dincht from the track team is going to get an athletic scholarship in _Zanarkand_."

"You're kidding me," Tidus moaned, slapping his forehead. "The scouts already _came_?! Did you hear anything about blitz? Please tell me you heard something about blitz, Yuffie, _please_."

"I dunno, man," she said, sipping her drink and leaning back in her seat. "There was something about Wakka though. . ."

"Whaaat?! What _about_ Wakka?!"

"Oh, _that_ rumour?" Sora interjected, chewing on a breadstick thoughtfully. "Wakka said that he _did_ get a call from the scouts, but they were asking him for the Spira Cup Tournament's schedule. He's the captain and the team manager, right? I'm not too surprised."

"So. . . so they haven't come yet? It'll only be at the Spira Cup?" Tidus asked Sora, eyes swimming in hopefulness. The spiky-haired brunet grinned and nodded. Tidus let out a breath of relief, slumping in his seat. "Thank _goodness_. No way I'm gonna pass _that_ kind of chance up."

"So Zell's getting a scholarship to Zanarkand?" Sora asked Yuffie instead. "Wow, that's pretty prestigious. But I thought Leon would get it, since he's the number one runner _and_ a senior."

Squall's ears perked at that and he listened just a little more intently.

"Leon? Oh yeah, no doubt about it," Tidus responded through a mouthful of pizza. He took a moment to chew and swallow before downing it with some cola. "The deal is, I overheard some of the instructors saying that because Leon's been bullying someone – you know that whole textbook deal – so they thought that at least someone with more enthusiasm like Zell would benefit from the scholarship."

"Seriously?" Sora asked, leaning forward. "Man, that really sucks. I mean, they're basically scrapping him of any chance because of hearsay. That's a total waste of perfectly awesome talent!"

"Yeah, I'll say," Yuffie responded absentmindedly, giving Squall a sidelong glance and nudging him slightly with her foot. He chose to ignore her.

"I agree with that course of action, though," Tidus pointed out. "It would be horrible if we had jerks in really prominent positions."

"But it's all just hearsay," Sora argued back. "I mean, sure, Leon's not the friendliest guy this side of the hemisphere, but can they _prove_ that he's a bully? Everyone just _presumes_ that Leon did whatever he did. What if it turned out to be someone else? What is it was the _other_ guy that's been doing all the provoking?"

Tidus shrugged, taking an enormous bite out of his pizza.

"S'far as I'm concerned," he said through mouthfuls, "I've heard the rumours and I've seen it with my own two eyes. That other guy and Leon? They want to _gouge each other's eyes out_. And they probably would, in all frankness. I think they just refrain from doing so out of public decency."

"There's just no way it could be _that_ bad," Sora scoffed, stealing Tidus' cola.

Yuffie and Tidus snorted simultaneously.

"I mean, Leon's my senior for the IT Club and I'll have you know he's nothing like what the rumours say about him having broken some kid's leg, or. . . or dislocating his right shoulder! He's quiet and sometimes pretty standoffish, yeah, but he wouldn't go to _that_ extent," Sora said with a huff, crossing his arms.

"I'll agree with you on that last part. But just so you know, it was a broken _ankle_ and not a leg," Yuffie said as-a-matter-of-factly. Tidus nudged her hard, sniggering. Sora and Squall simultaneously glared at the pair.

"Ha-ha. Hilarious. But I still stand by the fact that Leon was not the person who tore up that textbook. If you ask me, I think that the 'victim'," Sora said, bringing both hands up in fists and hooking his middle and index fingers in the gesture of quotation, "Was the one who tore up his book to frame Leon."

Strangely, Squall felt something inside him that had been cool and watery flaring up with heat, bubbling furiously as he slowly turned to look at Sora – _really_ look at the boy. He was grateful that an underclassman of his was loyal and trustful enough of him, but he felt so. . . livid. _Enraged_, even.

Under the table, Squall clenched his hands _hard_, his fingernails digging into the palm of his heel as his knuckles turned white at the sheer force.

Oblivious to Squall and his anger, Sora had just continued on. "I mean, has anyone _seen_ Leon actually going around and goading this guy? And somehow, _he_ is always the victim. Has Leon ever been let off? _Never_. Not _once_. It's ridiculous!"

"Kid," Tidus managed incredulously, in complete awe. "You've obviously never seen Leon on a warpath."

"And who _is_ the other guy anyways?" the youngest teenager demanded, ignoring the blond. "Someone keeps telling me it's an Irving Kinneas but I have no clue."

Tidus and Yuffie both choked on their pizzas, thumping their tightly clenched fists against their chests in an attempt to de-clog their respective oesophaguses. Sora stared at both of them, puzzled, as Squall silently raised a fine brow, expression less than impressed.

Once Yuffie managed to take a deep swig of her soda, she dissolved into incredulous giggles, slapping the table with a hand as she keeled over in laughter. Tidus had turned a little blue from the lack of oxygen, but after he managed to cough out the huge chunk of cheese and pineapple that had been lodged in his throat, he sank in his chair weakly, a lame grin on his face.

"Irving. . . Irving Kinneas, he says," Yuffie managed, her laughter receding. She wiped the tears away from her eyes. "Sora, _where have you been_? _Irvine_ isn't even _in_ school, let alone _our_ school. Irvine Kinneas is a world-famous _marksman_, you goofball!"

Sora pouted, tossing a glare at Tidus who was still chuckling feebly.

"Okay, okay, I get the point," he grumbled slightly. "So who's the other guy?"

"He's um, what was it. . . Cloud Stripes. . .?"

"Strife."

All eyes turned to look at the source of that quiet voice.

Squall was glowering silently, eyes narrowed almost dangerously so as he felt a great measure of irritation plague him. What he would give to give these kids a few good hits; maybe kick them around a bit. Yeah, that would be satisfaction beyond _measure_.

"His name," Squall resumed after a painful beat of silence, speaking slowly, as though trying to explain a difficult sum to a child. "Is Cloud _Strife_."

The other two boys exchanged uncertain glances, Yuffie staring on at Squall listlessly, unable to place that _strange_ feeling she was getting from him. Squall had been acting weird all day long, and it wasn't because of his current state. He hadn't changed _that_ much personality-wise, and he seemed to be affected by something. What, she hadn't a clue, but she was beginning to suspect that something a little more serious had happened between Cloud and Squall.

"Oh?" Tidus asked, expression a little vacant. His misty blue eyes were trained studiously on the small boy, eyebrows knitted together as he chewed on his bottom lip. "Strife, huh? It's sad to say that it sort of suits him. He's always gloomy and, sometimes, sorry to say, he can just be plain bad luck."

"Whatever," Squall countered icily, eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he bared his teeth, hissing through his clenched jaws. What did _they_ know? They didn't know _squat_ about Cloud. They didn't have any _right_ to say those kind of things about him. They didn't know what he was like, didn't know what he'd had to suffer through, didn't know his pain. Bunch of obnoxious, idiotic brats. "Go talk to a wall."

The uncomfortable silence stretched out longer than before, a dull buzzing sound filling in the void of noise that was barely masked by the idle chatter of the restaurant. Squall's piercingly sharp gaze didn't waver in the least, keeping it even with all three teenagers, lips still twisted into a frown.

"Are you Leon's demon spawn or something?" Tidus blurted out all of a sudden, eyes widening at the boy.

Squall effectively blinked. Twice. Thrice.

His jaw slackened, gaze losing its sharpness and declining into a dull stare.

"Mr. Loire didn't have a secret son or something did he? Because I've met Ellone and she is everything like him, and Leon is just _weird_ in that family and. . ."

"No way, I heard from Demyx that the kid's staying with Aerith," Sora interjected with an excited whisper, gaze switching conspiratorially between Tidus and Squall.

Yuffie was trying to suppress her laughter, biting down on her quivering lower lip and nonchalantly wiping her mouth with a napkin, carefully looking away from their table.

"Aerith? Aerith Gainsborough?" Tidus pressed incredulously. "Don't tell me that. . . that. . ."

Yuffie accidently let out a strangled sound, sniggering quietly as Squall continued to stare, dumbfounded, at the pair of teenagers. He could _see_ the cogs turning in their heads but honestly, they were unpredictable and he could not, for the life of him, gauge what was to happen.

Sora and Tidus were still huddled together, whispering quickly as stray mentions of 'his looks' to 'that eye colour' to 'no effing way' and 'but the _resemblance_' floated airily past the table. And finally. . .

"What?! Leon and Aerith had a _LOVE CHILD_?!"

The pizza parlour fell silent, a few hundred eyes homing in on their table.

Squall's jaw fell and hit the table as he grew pale.

In the distance, someone choked on their food and started coughing violently.

And then, Yuffie _howled_ with laughter.

Soon enough, half the restaurant were either immersed in this new piece of gossip, or laughing their heads off at the simple prospect of _Leon_ scoring _any_ ass, much less _Aerith's_.

Finally regaining what little composure he had, Squall slapped a hand over his face, mumbling incoherently under his breath as he got down from his seat and started walking to the exit.

It took a while, but eventually, Yuffie managed to overcome the utter hilarity of _everything_ and threw a handful of breadsticks at Tidus' and Sora's heads.

"What are you, _dumb_ or something?! Squall's 6 years old! Oh yeah, Leon and Aerith _totally_ had sex and conceived him at age _11_."

More laughter ensued at this, and Tidus and Sora looked at each other for a beat before equally stupid grins formed on their faces and both boys sank in their chair in relief, simultaneously going, "_Ohhhhhhhh_, right!"

Yuffie slumped over and began to giggle hysterically.

**xxx**

A blast of cool night air washed over his face as Squall stepped out of the pizza place, the boy allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he let out a tired sigh. He had his hands jammed in his pockets, dragging his feet along the pavement as he walked just a few steps away from the noisy restaurant.

Running a hand through his hair, Squall had no idea how he was going to handle _that_ rumour once he changed back. Once he changed back. More like _if_ he changed back. He wished to the high heavens that some _saint_ would waltz along and solve this predicament for him, but somehow he knew that he couldn't help but wait until he saw Ansem again – preferably with some results.

Ansem _had_ slipped in earlier on the way to the victory party – mentioning a phone call and Yuffie – quickly pulling out a few hairs from his head, and then speeding off with a sullen long haired blond in the driver's seat – presumably that Vexen student that Yuffie had told him about earlier that day.

Tilting his head upwards to stare at the half-moon in the sky that was partially hidden by patches of dark clouds, Squall exhaled quietly. With _some_ resolve and an inch of gratitude at the fact that Yuffie wasn't leaving him to his own fate, he made himself a promise to hold out, if not just a bit longer.

He heard some muffled sounds – sounds akin to whispers – coming from an alley beside the restaurant and curiously, quietly, made his way over, hiding himself behind a wall and peeking out just a little – unable to totally see the figures as they were shrouded in the shadows that loomed the passage.

"Now what about the Strife job I told you to get done, eh?"

That mirthful voice was deep and husky, tinged with a clear, Northern brogue.

There was a slight rustling of clothing and a sharp, "Hmph," that responded.

That Northerner chuckled throatily, a slight movement indicating that he was reaching into a breast pocket. This time, Squall could hear the crinkling sound of paper.

"See it? Now give me what you've got and maybe I'll let you in on some of it," the Northerner said a little more sharply, that teasing lilt in his voice completely gone now, though still soft.

"Fine," the other person replied a little irately. His voice was lighter, a little higher. "But make it snappy. God knows what would happen if a cop or a friend sees me with someone like _you_."

Squall knew that voice.

_Demyx_?

"I checked her schedule," the teenager continued, voice this time almost fond, but clearly guilty. "It'll be on Thursday. Just this once."

"Only?" the Northerner asked, clearly a bit agitated. "Okay. . . All right then. Looks like I'll have to commence a little earlier than expected. Did you-"

"Hurry up and pay me," Demyx interrupted deliberately.

Squall swore that he saw the man smile.

"I suppose you're right, lad," he said with a hint of a laugh, counting a few notes and passing it to Demyx who merely snatched the money and pocketed it quickly. "Don't want you mixed up in underground business."

"Underground my foot," Demyx snorted in response, shifting his weight to his other foot. He paused hesitantly before looking up at the man, voice just a bit timid. "Today, did you. . .?"

The Northerner's teeth glinted slightly in the dim light as he grinned.

"You best be moving along now, lad," he said instead, voice low. "Congratulations, by the way. Some party you have going there."

Squall leaned back, pressing himself against the wall as the man fluidly strode out of the alley, tipped his hat over his face, and walked away with a slight jingle to his step – he must have been wearing a chain or had some loose change or something.

Somewhat transfixed, his eyes remained on the man's back until he disappeared at a corner, Squall deep in thought as he puzzled over what had just happened. He was unaware of the slightly desolate and unsatisfied noise that Demyx had made then, leaning back against the wall of the alley and dully gazing up at the stars.

What the hell had _that_ been? _Seriously_. And 'Strife'? That name had been popping up far too much for Squall's liking. He just didn't want to think about it. Job? _Underground_? And Cloud. . .

_Cloud_.

He dropped his gaze to the pavement, fully aware that he didn't want to think of _Cloud_ especially. He'd been pushing away any and _all_ thoughts of the blond since this morning – and with good reason, too. What Squall had _seen _had stirred something that. . . well, something he had left stagnant, to put it simply.

Well, _certainly_ he himself had had his own fair share of porn as a blossoming teenager. He _was_ a guy, after all. But he had something he was infinitely proud of, and he liked to call it 'self-control'. When he had chanced the look at Cloud's folders, he had been completely unprepared, caught totally off-guard. Weeks of getting used to asking for and saying whatever it was he wanted had beaten his tough, mature mask into a pathetic pulp that had then been tossed into a dirty toilet bowl and flushed into a piranha-infested Amazon river.

Squall had been _very_ uncomfortable throughout the day, and it showed, and _he knew_ it showed. He had tried his best to smooth things over, tried his best to appear as normal as he possibly could, but it wasn't exactly a cakewalk. Constantly fidgeting and keeping as far away from people as he could, Squall had been feeling complete dread at the fact – and he _did_ indeed acknowledge it – that he was. . . turned on.

It was a completely new experience, to _feel_ this kind of thing in _this type_ of body. 'Squall' hadn't hit puberty yet, had he? There wasn't much that could be done, considering the fact that as Leon he had had a very quick and sure fire way to 'cure' himself of his current 'ailment', so he did the only he could come up with: hold it in.

But, god, _why_ did it get _worse_ each time Cloud came about?

He'd been having this silly crush on the blond after realizing that he was indeed a kindred spirit – having illusions of them being brothers, almost. That respect, and that longing to be as strong and mature – yes, he knew that he'd looked up to Cloud immensely since he had been taken in.

Was Squall _embarrassed_ that Cloud had caught him seeing? Or. . . did he. . .

Did he _really_. . . feel that way?

Eyes fluttering shut, Squall sighed softly, cursing mentally when Cloud's cherubic sleeping-face came to mind. His slightly parted full lips. His smooth, tan skin dotted with light freckles. His long, blond lashes. The hint of muscle that rippled gently under his loose shirt.

His serene _smile_.

Squall's breath hitched slightly, lashes hooded low over his eyes as he gazed at a pebble on the street, a distracted expression on his face as he thought deep and long. A slight wind picked up, and, feeling cold, the boy crossed his arms, huddling together a little to keep warm.

"Yo, kiddo. What're you doing all alone out here?" asked a listless voice.

Squall looked up, gaze boring into Demyx's tired sea green eyes. Holding his gaze for a good minute, Squall sighed again, looking down and shifting his weight to his other foot as he breathed out a, "Just thinking."

"Oh yeah?" Demyx asked, a smile flitting across his lips as he relaxed slightly, losing whatever tenseness that had been weighing him down. He walked over to the small brunet, nudging him slightly with his knee and standing behind him before dropping down onto the pavement with Squall standing between his legs.

With a soft smile, Demyx pulled the kid down, bringing his legs up and folding his arms together, leaning his elbows on his knees. Squall paused momentarily before slumping, tilting his body to the side and leaning against Demyx's arm and leg.

"So what were you thinking about?" Demyx asked quietly, tucking Squall's head under his chin. Squall shrugged half-heartedly, closing his eyes. "Lotsa things."

"Yeah, me too," the teenager responded. He shifted slightly, glancing at the boy. "You okay there, buddy?"

I'm fine, Dem-Dem-Dem-" Squall yawned rubbing his eyes lamely, nuzzling into the blond's white pants slightly before wrapping his arms around Demyx's calf. He chuckled in response, squeezing the boy a bit.

"Dem-Dem, huh? I like that. If Roxas heard you, he'd tell you to call me 'Dum-Dum' instead," Demyx offered jokingly. Squall smiled lightly, briefly, raising his head to look up at the teenager before he managed to catch something at the corner of his eye.

Squall's eyes widened slightly, his stomach doing a violent somersault.

A few streets away was Cloud Strife, spiky blond hair a little dishevelled and sweat drenched clothes clinging to his body stubbornly. There were clear grease stains on his elbows where his sleeves had been folded, and some smudges of it on his face. He had in his left hand a cellular phone, one that he had just hung up as he walked towards them.

When their eyes met, Squall had gone a little pale. He looked away abruptly, feeling his face grow even hotter, his body reacting before his mind could. He squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in Demyx's arms and pretending to be fast asleep as his fingers curled into the teenager's trousers.

Cloud halted mid-step, expression that of puzzlement before his face fell, a frown marring his dirty face as he clenched his fists and dropped his gaze to the road. Crestfallen, he hesitantly turned around, throwing a final doleful glance to the boy whom he could _see_ was awake before he forced himself to walk down a dim street lit by a flickering street lamp, jamming his hands in his pockets.

Biting on his lower lip, Cloud couldn't help but feel a rise of anger, of dissatisfaction at Demyx. Demyx did no wrong, that was for sure, but. . .

_He_ had been the one to make Squall warm up to people, hadn't he? _Everyone_ was now coddling and talking to Squall _because_ of _his_ efforts, right?

Why was Squall pushing him _away_?

Did he do something wrong?

Cloud went a little cold at the prospect, trepidation chilling him faster than the frosty night wind. His mind was reeling – did it have something to do with Xigbar's appearance? Oh god, what was Squall thinking? Cloud didn't have a clue, couldn't read the boy or his thoughts _at all_ and that _scared_ him.

He had never felt so _scared_ before.

What was _happening_?

* * *

**A/N:** Hello everyone! This is by far the longest (and I fear it may also be the boringest) chapter yet. I've been rushing to finish it because I'm to leave for Kenya in about 10 hours. D:

So! New Year has come and gone and we're well into 2007. I've got a major exam to sit for this year (as I am a secondary school senior), and it's a bitter-sweet thing for me to say that this fic is half-finished. After angsting muchosly over the plot, I'll tell you that you can expect it to end by chapter 14 or 15.

And as for the Squall Leon problem? It's going to be resolved relatively soon.

Thank you so much for your support the past year, everyone! Enjoy this chapter, folks:D


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